


To Catch a Lady's Favour

by muse51



Series: Never Forgotten [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse51/pseuds/muse51
Summary: Albus Dumbledore is charged with recruiting Minerva McGonagall to teach at Hogwarts. The lady is not easily swayed. Together they fight their attraction, rivals and an ancient evil in the Egyptian desert.





	1. Honor Among Headmasters

**Author's Note:**

> This story was previously posted on FFN under my alternate name rogueinker.

**Honor Among Headmasters**

_Egypt 1955_

Considering the circumstances, Albus Dumbledore found the oppressive heat acceptable and the quirky up and down bobbing motion of his transport unavoidable. As for the noises - grunts, wheezes and the like - emitted by his sole companion, he had grown accustomed to those, too. But the pervasive smell undid him entirely. In later years he would describe the odor as a cross between rotten eggs, moldy food and mangy fur.

Albus decided he’d best make do. The situation was thankfully not permanent. The things I do for Hogwarts, he thought.

This acclaimed wizard and hero was enduring his third day in the desert astride a rented camel. While he agreed with Headmaster Dippet that Hogwarts deserved only the best, he was not entirely in agreement that one Miss Minerva McGonagall was the best and only candidate for a vacant teaching post. Having never met the woman this opinion was based on what little he did know about her.

Nibbling on one of the last of his carefully hoarded lemon drops, his mind recalled the day last week when he had returned to Hogwarts from his summer holiday. The headmaster was waiting for him in the main hall. After a cursory greeting, Dippet had half dragged Albus to his office. A few minutes later they were sipping mugs of hot chocolate and eating sandwiches discussing Armando's latest crusade namely Minerva McGonagall. Albus listened closely while Armando divulged all.

"This is a war, Albus, a war for talent, and I intend to win it." Armando leaned back in his chair. "Beauxbaton and Durmstrang have already had their say. She is mulling their offers as we speak."

"So, what exactly do you want me to do, Armando?"

"What else? Go to her and make the case for Hogwarts." Armando took a bite out of a sandwich. "Tell Miss McGonagall about our history, curriculum, everything. Convince her that no other school could offer her as much as we could."

"She is that good, eh?"

"Have a look." Armando passed a letter and a copy of Transfiguration Monthly over to him. "Read that and tell me if my expectations are misplaced."

Dumbledore began to read the magazine article. It was a story about newly discovered papyri in Egypt that revealed the ancient Egyptian wizards' use of transfigured objects in various religious ceremonies. There were no pictures accompanying the article. Pictures would have been redundant. The text easily held one’s attention. It was scholarly to be sure but each word carried a sense of wonder and excitement. "Impressive."

"I have made some inquiries. That article is a mere hint of her capabilities. She is a qualified mistress of transfiguration and -"

"Armando, it says here she's only thirty-five. No one attains a master status before forty, at least."

"As I recall you became a master alchemist at about the same age."

"Be that as it may. Transfiguration is a much more rigorous discipline."

"It only proves her brilliance and dedication."

"She may be a capable scholar but I do not see her value to Hogwarts certainly not in the post of a teacher. She does not possess any teaching experience at all." Albus commented.

"There are plenty of us here to help her along."

"With her field of study I find it surprising that teaching would be of any interest to her."

"Well, she hasn't exactly applied to be a teacher, Albus." Dippet began to pace in his office. "Do you know of Theodore Duval?"

"Beauxbaton's headmaster."

"Yes, he is also Miss McGonagall's close friend. Theodore let slip at our last headmasters' meeting that Miss McGonagall's research project would be ending soon and that she was of a mind to explore other opportunities to pursue afterwards. Theo was practically salivating over having her on his faculty in a term or two.

"That does not mean she would enjoy teaching, Armando. Or that it would be suited to her. I hope she likes children."

"Just hear me out, Albus." Armando stopped pacing and looked at his friend intensely. "We are going to need her. Our world is changing quickly. Hogwarts will need to change with it."

"I see. You are implying a need to rejuvenate the staff? May I point out that we have not done too badly as we are."

"No. But we've been lucky, too. That girl's death weighs on my mind, Albus, more and more."

"Tom Riddle has been gone these past two years. His influence over the younger years has declined greatly."

"Even so, can you not feel that there is something not quite right? Not just here but everywhere." Armando sighed then shook his head. "In any case, we must look to the future. Now, Albus, you are in line to succeed me. I have no doubts whatsoever that you will fill the post most admirably. If I may say so, you are far more suited to it than I am. Your mind for strategy is astounding."

Dumbledore's cheeks grew warm at the compliment. "Thank you, Armando."

Armando smiled at his deputy and friend. "I would be the first to defend you against any slur or insult, but I am also the first to say that you are by far the least detail-oriented person I have ever met. I lay awake at night wondering how you will deal with all the operational tasks of running a school. Therefore, I feel that the one who fills the deputy position must be complementary to you and your abilities. Additionally, the deputy's magical talent must be near or equal to your own. I know this last is not a requirement for the job but I feel that this must be so."

"But -"

Armando waved a hand in the air. "Yes, you are considered to be the greatest wizard of your generation. But for all that, you are only one man. I feel that we are at a crossroads here and that our best hope for the future is to not place all the responsibility on your shoulders alone. Even now, appeals begging for your help come daily. Good man that you are, you do your best to help as many as you can. I do not see this changing, only worsening. You will need a partner more than a deputy, Albus."

"And you have chosen Miss McGonagall?"

"I have," With these two little words accompanied by a sly half smile, Albus' fate was sealed. "After she acquires proficiency in teaching, of which I have little doubt she will achieve, I plan on grooming her to become the deputy that you and Hogwarts will need. I know that the two of you will suit each other superbly. I shall send an owl to her informing her of your upcoming visit. All you have to do is convince her that Hogwarts is the best place for her."

The next day Albus had first flown to Cairo and from there apparated to Abydos then Luxor. According to the research manager, Albus was a mere day behind his quarry. Unfortunately, anti-magic wards forced him to travel by boat to Aswan where, if rumors were to be believed, Miss McGonagall was headed. There, he had narrowly missed her at the Temple of Isis. So here he was trekking dutifully across the sands to Abu Sindel on the heels of the seemingly nomadic and certainly elusive lady.

_Armando, you had better be right about her._

 

* * *

The lady in question knew that she was being pursued. Perhaps, pursued was the wrong word. Harried and harassed might have been better choices. She sat in the shade and sipped her tea gratefully. Next to her, Piers Rampal, the research director for the expedition, filled his own teacup.

"There's another one coming, Piers." Minerva said.

"You make it sound worse than the coming of locusts," Piers commented.

"At least the locusts don't interfere with my work." Minerva nibbled on a cucumber sandwich. English sensibilities in a foreign land were most comforting for her. "I have told them time and again that I am not making a decision until this project is over. In November I'll consider my options."

"Are you not the least bit flattered with all this attention? Hmmm?"

"I find it all ridiculous!" Minerva exclaimed. "I have to stop what I'm doing to cater to another stodgy crone who wants to tell me how marvelous their school is. Really, Theodore will hear a thing or two about this when I get back."

"I will do my best to see to it that you are not bothered unduly." Piers offered. "The heat will get to them soon enough. That last emissary from the American academy did not last very long - half a day I believe."

"Actually, I'm hoping that they've given up trying to find me." Minerva said with a satisfied smile.

Piers did not miss the cheshire cat smile on his colleague's pretty face. "Is that why we've been zigzagging across Egypt the last few days?"

"If they really want me, they will find me. If not, they can go back home and leave me in peace." Minerva took another sip. "I don't even know if teaching at that level is what I want."

"You know it would suit you. No need to be coy."

"I've found the offers thus far to be highly resistible. Thank you very much."

"So, it will be the immovable force meeting the irresistible object." Piers observed.

"Immovable? Now you're making me sound rigid and cold."

"Never! You are however quite irresistible." Piers took her hand and bestowed a kiss upon it. "Have you given any more thought about spending Christmas with my family?"

"Yes, I have. I would love to spend Christmas in Portofino."

"It will be wonderful. I've written to my parents and they cannot wait to see you again.”

"Nor I them." Minerva looked lovingly at Piers over the rim of her teacup.

 

* * *

Armando read the letter aloud for what must have been the fifth time in the last hour. He could not help chuckling each time he reached the end.

 

_Armando,_

_It is said that there is honor among thieves, obviously, there is none between headmasters. I have heard that you have sent a representative to Cairo asking about Minerva. None other than Albus himself!_

_Do you think that she will be overawed by his attentions? I am supremely glad to inform you that Minerva is not that shallow. It will take more than Albus Dumbledore to impress her._

_I have just made a note to myself as a reminder to invite you to Beauxbaton for Christmas feast this year. At which time. I will have the thrilling opportunity of introducing you to Minerva. Believe me, Hogwarts will not have her._

_Until then,_

_Theodore_

 

"We shall see, Theodore, we shall see." Armando said.

 

 


	2. Manners Do Make the Man

**Manners Do Make the Man**

Minerva gazed at her full length mirror the next morning. This was her one concession to feminine refinement which she insisted on having wherever she happened to be. Looking at her image she saw only drawbacks not highlights. Inwardly, she had often described her slim, angular build as boyish or coltish, all awkward elbows and knees. Too busy giving in to her critical eye, she always missed those things that others noticed.

Maturity had blessed her form with a lithe, easy grace that softened her angles enhancing her womanly attributes rather than detracting from them. Her deep blue eyes were lively. They sparkled with an effervescent intelligence. Her smile was engaging and open drawing in even the haughtiest of observers. None of this did she see.

Minerva donned her usual excavation outfit - pit helmet, brown trousers, tucked white blouse and sturdy boots. Never one to consider herself a fashion plate, she braided her long dark hair and covered it all up with her helmet. She placed her wand into her pocket and hung a small emery bag on her belt. It contained her usual kit shrunk to miniature size - trowel, specimen bags, duster, a small muggle flashlight and lastly a muffled bell. Minerva looked at her reflection thinking the ensemble eminently practical.

Had she bothered to notice the reaction of the males around her as she made her way to the meal tent, she may have had cause to change her opinion if not her mode of dress. The trousers fitted her too well accentuating the length and shape of her legs and buttocks. Her shirt's pale color contrasted with her pants and belt making the slimness of her waist quite evident. Her confident, loose limbed stride drew the eye. She could not be described as a stunning beauty that left one speechless. No, her beauty was all her own and as such made speech unnecessary, and in her case, wholly inadequate.

Piers greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek. Next to him sat the three other members of the research team. They too murmured their greetings. Breakfast was a quick affair. There were too many things to do for anyone to dawdle overlong. They had much to finish before the annual rains came and decimated the dig site. Throughout the day, Minerva flitted about checking on all the teams and their various tasks.

By midday her pants were dirty. Her boots had earned another layer of mud. Her white shirt stuck to her like a second skin while tendrils of her hair hung limply down her face. Despite all this, her eyes shone brighter and her laughter came easy and fast. As fate would have it, she was striding across the camp when Albus ambled in leading the camel. Appalled at the sight he presented and more than a little curious, she stopped and waited for the stranger to come closer. The wide brim of her helmet hid most of her features.

With one hand on the tether, Albus pulled the recalcitrant camel along muttering dire threats to all camel-kind under his breath. Albus was not in the best of moods or appearances. His blue robes were askew and torn in some places. His face was smudged with dirt. Perspiration dripped down from his still auburn hair to his trimmed beard. His face would have done a lobster proud. The man was tired and miserable yet manfully soldiering on.

Some hours ago the camel had suddenly refused to move any further. In his most gentle but authoritative tones, Albus had tried to convince the animal to start moving once again. The stubborn beast stared at him then drew its legs underneath itself. Clearly, the beast was not moving and the man had to accept that fact. Albus tried casting some spells. but with the anti- magic wards still in force all he could manage were a few wispy vapors and dim flashes of light. Defensive spells like "Stupefy" were allowed but stunning his only means of transport was not an option.

Admitting defeat, Albus gave the camel a drink of water and settled himself to wait. After an hour, the camel deigned to rise and they resumed their journey to Abu Sindel. Now and again, the ornery beast would stop and Albus would once again be forced to stop, too. With each stop, his patience thinned and his temper shortened.

As he drew nearer to the heart of the site, Albus thanked all the gods watching over him. He had caught up with the team at last. He could make out a young man waiting for him. "Can you tell me, young man, where I may find Miss Minerva McGonagall?"

"We have strict security here. Have you clearance from Cairo to be here?" Minerva eyed him surreptitiously. To her mind, he could only be one Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts emissary and noted war hero. _Doesn't look anything like his newspaper pictures. I thought he was older. Quite tall though._

"I have it here ... some where." Dumbledore fished around his robe pockets. Bureaucracy, one can never escape it. "I seem to have misplaced it."

"No clearance, no access," Minerva replied. _Hmm, he's come this far let's see how serious he is._

Albus took a deep breath before saying, "I am certain that if you owl Cairo they will vouch for my presence and identity."

"That is not standard operating procedure. You will have to go back and secure clearance."

Albus was at the edge of his endurance after four frustrating days. _Grant me patience in dealing with overeager lackeys._ He snapped out, "Young man, fetch Miss McGonagall this instant. She has a letter regarding my arrival. That should be all the sufficient clearance you require."

He fixed the young man with the same piercing glare that had reduced grown men to quivering gelatin on and off the battlefields. The young man did not even blink. The standoff continued in silence for a full minute. Exhausted as he was, Albus could not maintain his glare for long. His shoulders sagged and he surrendered. "May I please see Miss McGonagall?"

The man has manners after all, thought Minerva. She extended her hand out and looked him straight in the eye. "How very rude of me, sir. Minerva McGonagall, how do you do?"

Albus' hand shook hers automatically. He could not find the right words to say. After all, what words could do justice to utter mortification or dreadful embarrassment? His reflexes fell back to rote and memory. "Albus ... Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Minerva motioned a worker over and told him in Arabic to find Piers and prepare the visitor tent. "Someone will tend to your mount. You are in need of rest and refreshment. Follow me please."

As they walked, or in his case limped, to the meal tent, Albus snuck a few sideways glances at the self-assured woman beside him. _That was not the first impression I envisioned having. I should have changed into my dress robes first._ "I must make amends for the way I spoke to you earlier, Miss McGonagall. I rather thought I was speaking with -"

"A man, yes. The clothes are misleading aren't they?"

By the arched tone of her voice, Albus could not quite gauge whether she had accepted his indirect apology or not. This simple mission was becoming tricky indeed.

Once inside Albus sat down gratefully on one of the long benches. Two glasses and a pitcher of apricot juice were placed before them by a slightly built Arab with a receding hairline. The Arab handed Minerva a small towel which earned him a small smile in return. As the Arab said a few words to her, Minerva watched with some surprise and no small amount of appreciation as Albus poured juice for her before filling his own glass. Albus drank greedily.

"Mr. Hamdi tells me that the midday meal will be starting in a few minutes. Might as well stay here until then." Minerva removed her helmet and sat down beside him. She dabbed the towel over her forehead, face and neck.

Albus could not help but admire the smooth economy of her motions. She may have been mannish in dress but her movements were naturally graceful and womanly. Too engrossed in watching his host, he did not notice a new arrival in the tent.

Piers strode in. His mind registered Albus' presence but his eyes immediately went to Minerva. He stood rather close to her. "I see you're finally taking a break, Minerva."

Minerva made the introductions. “Albus Dumbledore meet the director of this project, Piers Rampal.”

"Honored to meet you." Piers smiled and shook Albus' hand. As men do unconsciously, he took this new male's measure and did not find him much of a threat romantically speaking. However, the aura of powerful magic emanating from the older man made his skin prickle. "My parents attended one of your Transfiguration symposiums over the summer. They were much impressed."

"So you are related to Dominique and Pierre Rampal?" Albus had learned to read people very quickly without resorting to Legilimancy. There was something very guarded about the young man.

"My parents." Piers moved to sit between Minerva and Albus. "But enough about me. You're here to see Minerva."

"Let the man catch his breath, Piers. He's only just arrived." Minerva sipped her juice. There was a fond affection in the way she looked at her colleague that a long-time observer of people like Albus did not miss.

Albus looked at the two young people before him. They made a handsome couple. "You know why I am here. However, I do not wish to interfere with your work in any way."

Piers spoke before Minerva could respond herself. "We are flattered that you've come all this way and knowing how important and valuable your time is, Dumbledore, would it not be a better idea to finish your business quickly?"

"I am here in an official capacity representing Hogwarts. As such, the only truly important person here is Miss McGonagall." Though Albus' response was to the man, his eyes were on the lady. "I am at your disposal. Speak with me at your convenience."

Minerva flushed meeting Albus' direct gaze. Noticing Albus' courtly ways, the manners and deportment drilled into her by Grandmother McGonagall came rushing forward. "I seem to have forgotten my manners. The deputy headmaster has come a long way and here we are bombarding him with questions. He needs to eat and rest. There will be plenty of time for talking later."

Piers looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes asked the questions that his voice would not. She pointedly ignored his questions. "Yes, of course, you're right, love."

At that moment, the rest of the team and the workers began arriving and filling up the tent. Minerva introduced Albus to the other wizards on the team. The others spoke little feeling too overawed by Dumbledore's presence in their midst. Minerva made up for the others' reticence by speaking more and more animatedly with their guest on many topics. It had started with transfiguration and over the course of the meal meandered into magical and muggle history, science and philosophy. The two found much common ground. On those topics of which the two were opposed, their debates were knowledgeable and incisive.

Afterwards, Minerva could not remember a luncheon where she had enjoyed herself more. As Albus went to get some much needed rest, Minerva returned to the site. She found herself looking forward to the evening meal to come.


	3. Kindred Spirits

Piers prowled around the dig site restlessly looking for Minerva. He found her in one of the more distant excavation sites. She sat behind a makeshift desk bent over a large leather log book. All around her were placed the artifacts discovered the previous day. Minerva cataloged each item in her book.

Piers leaned on one edge of the desk. "I wonder, Minerva, were you planning to entertain him at dinner, too?"

"Hmm?" Minerva turned a page and began a new entry.

"The fascinating man you just spent two hours talking to."

"It was hardly two hours," Minerva scoffed not bothering to stop writing or even to look up at Piers.

"It was nearly that." Piers crossed his arms across his chest. "There were other people there. You did not need to monopolize the conversation."

Minerva put down her quill. She selected an artifact and began to examine it. "Perhaps, but everyone else on the team was speechless at meeting him. Not that I can blame any of them. All that history and knowledge in one man can be intimidating."

"You did not seem at all intimidated."

She said rather absentmindedly, "Didn't I? I suppose it's because Albus makes one feel so, well, at ease and comfortable."

"When did you start calling him Albus?"

"It was silly to keep calling him Deputy Headmaster or Headmaster." She compared the artifact to another one.

"I'm beginning to think you're falling for his charms."

"He's my guest, Piers." Minerva put down the artifact and began her notes. "Charm has nothing to do with it."

"Dumbledore is a powerful wizard. Power can be very attractive. Some women find -"

"What am I going to do with you?!" She finally looked at him directly. The tilt of his face and the glitter in his brown eyes were all the proof she needed to know that he was spoiling for a fight. "Every time another man gets near me you get possessive."

"That's because I possess something so very valuable that I cannot tolerate the thought of any other man having it." Piers took her logbook and placed it flat on the desk. He took her hands in his. "Set a wedding date and make an honest man out of me."

Minerva stood up and faced him. "And doing so would end these irrational bouts of jealousy?"

Piers grinned. "Perhaps."

Minerva traced his jawline with one finger. "Don't you know I prefer my men on the low side of fifty?"

"Men? How many?" Piers teased.

"In the three years we've been together I have never looked at another man."

"Ever been tempted?"

"No." Minerva wound her arms around his neck. "As flattering as all this jealousy is, I wish you would stop. I feel like you don't trust me."

"Of course, I do." Piers straightened and pulled her close. "I want to get married and I want you to be my wife. Is that so hard to understand? Until that wonderful day, you will have to tolerate my possessive regard."

Minerva fingered the edges of his dark brown hair. "You said you would give me this year with no pressure. I want to finish my research here. You know how important this is to me."

"Yes, the promise you made to your parents. I remember." Piers nuzzled her neck. "The year is almost over. I suppose I can wait a little longer."

"The time will fly by you'll see." Minerva smiled at him.

 

* * *

Albus opened his eyes warily. A small noise had awakened him from a sound sleep. With his left hand he felt around for his wand. He heard the noise again. Following the direction of the sound, Albus spied a small form placing several items on top of an empty chair. He looked at the desk next to the chair. There was a small pitcher filled with a colored substance with a small cup beside it. The form moved again to face him. He could see that it was a native boy perhaps about nine or ten. Small for his age. Not wanting to startle the boy, Albus cleared his throat loudly.

The boy whirled about . Slim with a curly mop of black hair, the boy smiled innocently at him. "Sir is awake. I have brought some things for you."

Albus smiled back. He couldn't help it. The boy's sunny personality was so obvious and welcoming. "Thank you, ah, and what is your name?"

"Khalil ... Khalil Hamdi, sir."

"Are you related to Mr. Hamdi?"

"Yes, sir, my father." The boy's face shone bright as he talked about his father. "I have brought some clothes and apricot juice to drink."

Albus stood up stretching cautiously. He felt revived after his nap but still his aching joints held on to the memories of his arduous journey. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the boy eyeing him curiously. "Khalil means friend doesn't it? My name is Albus Dumbledore. You may call me Albus."

Khalil's face grew serious. "Miss Minerva said to call you Headmaster nothing else."

"Minerva sent you to me?"

"I am to be your ... your guide she said."

"I am sure that you will be a very good one." Albus seated himself on the desk and poured a cool drink. "Do you work on the site, Khalil?"

"No, sir ... Headmaster." Khalil stood at attention and continued to look at Albus earnestly. "Miss Minerva uses me for small errands and things she has no time to do herself."

"Like what?"

Khalil looked heavenward for a time before responding. "I shine her mirror every day. I make sure all her tools are clean and prepared for use. I help my father in the meal tent prepare for meal times. And her helmet, I am the only one to take care of that."

"I see." Albus could not help but smile at the boy's sincere pride in his work. "Do you go to school, Khalil?"

"My father used to send me to the English school. My mother fell sick and I stopped." Khalil looked shyly at his feet then raised his head again. "I hope to save enough from this work to study again.”

"Your English is very good. Do you read as well?"

"Better than I speak." This was spoken with honest pride not conceit.

"I have some books with me if you would like to read -"

"You do!?" Khalil exclaimed.

 _A kindred spirit in the heart of the desert._ "I do. When you come back tomorrow I will have them ready."

"I will take very good care of them. I will only read here in your tent, sir, Headmaster."

"You may borrow them and take them home."

"No, no sir. I have four brothers and sisters at home. The book would be harmed, sir." Khalil looked pensive. "And I have accidents sometimes. Better to leave them here."

"Accidents?" Albus peered down at the affable boy. "Anyone else in your family have these accidents?"

"Sudden things happen. I do not know why. Only me." The immediate thought that he may be denied the books made his next words come out in a rush. "But I read fast and I will not be a dis ... disturbance. I promise, sir... Headmaster, sir. I will make certain no harm comes to your books."

Albus decided then and there to observe the boy more closely. If his suspicions proved correct, young Khalil was going to need guidance very soon. "Albus. We are friends and so I give you permission to call me Albus. And you may read here or in the camp all right?"

"Thank you, sir." Khalil grinned. "I mean Albus."

 

* * *

At dinner Minerva made a conscious effort to include the others in. Unfortunately, the other wizards were still quite awed by Albus and managed only trivial pleasantries. The bulk of the conversation was between Minerva, Piers and Albus. Mr. Hamdi came around placing the main course dishes on their table.

"Khalil took me on a tour of the site just before dinner. I was surprised at the large number of muggles you have here,” Albus commented.

"We currently employ many of the men in the area thanks to Minerva,” supplied Piers.

"Our labor costs are quite manageable and cost effective,” Minerva pointed out. "Being unable to use our normal methods leaves much of the work to be done manually. There was hardly a choice but to use native labor."

Albus nodded approvingly. "I would think that working here, temporary though it may be, would provide these men more income than a year in their usual occupations."

"There, you see, in our own small way we are helping the local economy." Minerva poured more water into Piers' glass.

"Perhaps, but even with the twenty-five workers on site, the work is proceeding slowly." Piers picked at his food.

"Has Cairo been complaining?"

"No, Minerva. But I'd like to have things done well before December." Piers looked at her. His eyes made his meaning clear.

Minerva dropped her gaze to her plate. Outwardly she was composed but inwardly she was fuming. Unconsciously, Minerva closed her fist over her napkin. _Why is he so insistent? What does he want me to do? Declare my intentions on top of the Giza pyramid!_

Albus noticed the sudden vacuum of conversation. Sitting next to Piers he could not fail to notice the sudden tension in the younger man's posture. _A lovers' spat?_ He cleared his throat. "Well, Christmas is not far off. I'm looking forward to it especially after this heat."

Minerva looked up at him. Her eyes looked over his face critically. _He looks clean and rested. Did he trim his beard?_ "You're not suffering unduly are you, Albus?"

"Not at all." Albus fingered his robe. "Khalil gave me this galabiyya. It's much more comfortable than my normal robes."

"Going native on us, Albus?" Piers asked.

Albus chuckled. "When in Rome, or in this case Egypt, one must adapt."

"With darker hair and a deep tan, you could pass for a native,” Minerva remarked.

"No, he's too tall," Piers said brusquely.

Albus lifted a shish kabob on to his plate. "I feel like one. The food certainly agrees with me."

The sudden arrival of a post owl put a halt to all conversation. Piers removed a small piece of paper from its leg. He read it quickly. "It seems that my presence in Cairo is required. I'll be leaving first thing in the morning."

"What is it, Piers?" asked Minerva.

"The Head of Magical Antiquities would like to meet with me. He probably wants a report."

"In person? Surely a report by owl would be sufficient."

"That's not the way these things are done, Minerva. It's only for a few days." Piers took a long drink before standing up. "If you two don't mind, I'll finish my dinner in my tent and get started on this report."

Piers left with his dinner leaving Minerva and Albus essentially alone at the table. Minerva broke the awkward moment. "What shall we talk about?"

"Khalil,” Albus replied. "Thank you for appointing him as my guide."

Minerva felt the tension of the day evaporate from her mind and body. "You're welcome. Such a splendid boy and eager to please. He has so little to do I thought you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all. We had a splendid tour of the camp." Albus looked around him first before continuing. There were no others close enough to overhear them. "You do know that he's a wizard."

"What?!" Minerva's fork clattered on to her plate. "He's muggle born."

"That may be but he has magic inside of him. Very strong magic."

"How can you be sure?"

"While on our tour he had one of his accidents. I do not believe he was even aware of what he did. A worker was bent over examining some kind of relief on a wall. Above him was another worker high up on a ladder. A large mallet dropped off the top rung of the ladder. Had it fallen it would have injured the man below most grievously."

Minerva had her elbows on the table, her hands clasped together and her chin rested on her hands. “How was injury prevented?”

"That mallet dropped then hung suspended in the air for a few seconds. Had I not been watching I would have missed it. In those precious seconds, Khalil was able to shout a warning to the worker below who quickly moved away." Albus poured more tea for both of them. "I know I did not do it perforce it was Khalil. Children that young can do magic by force of need alone. Usually they are completely unaware of their actions. Khalil revealed that he has unexplained accidents."

"I never would have guessed." Minerva's delight at this new discovery made eyes glow with an inner light. "He is very intelligent and curious. He's finished most of the books I've lent him even some that I had no intention of lending."

Albus laughed out loud. "You, too?"

"Khalil can be so charming when he's after something. I must have the shiniest mirror in all of Egypt." Minerva smiled at him over her cup.

Looking at her relaxed and at ease in his company, he realized something. _She's far more beautiful on the inside than the outside. Utterly beautiful._ "You deserve only the best, Minerva."

The look in his eyes made Minerva pause. She recognized it for what it was - admiration and interest. The kind of interest that a man gives to a woman. She encountered that look many times but strangely enough, she had never felt it with such intensity. _Why is the room so hot? I need a drink._ Her hand went to her throat. Her voice came out a little more high pitched than normal. "I don't know what to say."

Albus did not look away. "It was an honest observation. I meant it."

"You are not one for games are you?"

"Not for this sort of thing."

“To be clear just what sort of thing is this exactly?"

Albus gazed at her steadily. He took one of Minerva's hands into his own. "I am attracted to you, Minerva McGonagall."

 _Air. Where is the air?_ "I'm ... I'm flattered but I should tell you that ... that -"

"I have learned over the years that something worth saying should be expressed."

Minerva flushed. "Your directness surprises me."

"I find being so simplifies things." Albus opened his palm to release her hand. "I would have you be at ease, always. Please know that I expect nothing to come of this. It is enough that I have told you."

Minerva squeezed his hand before pulling her hand away. "I am honored to be so regarded by you, Albus. Truly."

Albus smiled and stood up. "It is late. May I have the honor of escorting you back to your tent?"

"I'd like that." Minerva returned his smile and stood. "Will you tell me of your tour while we walk?"

They left the tent arm in arm.


	4. Compelled to Questioning Thoughts

Albus had long ago stopped considering himself eligible to have a normal life with a beloved companion and a family to call his own. His powers and abilities had seen fit to place him outside of that ordinary realm. You have been blessed with great power.

His father’s wise counsel echoed in his mind. _There will be much struggle within you to use or misuse it. Live with honor and the struggles will be few._

Lifelong, he strived to follow it to the letter as best he could. He lived his life as it would have been expected of him - honestly, honorably and with dignity until yesterday, last night. Honor was conveniently forgotten as he had impulsively made his interest known to a woman belonging to another.

_I am attracted to you, Minerva McGonagall._

Once the words were let out he could not undo them. The attraction was not rooted in physical lust though there was a fair amount of that. Against all probability, Minerva had triggered something in him that no woman ever had. She fascinated him. Her mind, her wit, her views on things everything about her intrigued him. There was an inner strength to her that overshadowed her beguiling exterior. It was that strength of mind and spirit that touched him so. Even his dreams had been lured away from the commonplace to visions of the two of them entangled, sharing intimacies that left his body aching in the morning.

Albus groaned out loud. _She is not free. It is base to feel this way but I am compelled just the same._

This was not the kind of problem he had been expecting to have on this trip. His most pressing duty was to have been convincing himself that Minerva was right for the teaching position. Instead, he found himself becoming enamored with the woman herself. This was no mere infatuation to be acknowledged then readily forgotten once circumstances had changed. Knowing what he knew and believing in what he did made his shame that much more acute.

_For once I indulged my dream but dreams are not always good or possible. It will subside once there is some distance between us. It should. Her course lies with someone else. There is no place for this, for her in my life._

Those last thoughts brought his mind back to his mission and Hogwarts. The owl had awoken him just before sunrise with a letter from the headmaster. He remembered the words clearly.

_Albus,_

_Any progress? Duval has been intolerably cheeky. He has invited ME to Beauxbaton for Christmas feast ostensibly to meet Miss McGonagall at that time after she is on his staff. I want nothing more than to reply to him that no such thing will ever come to pass._

_I urge you to do all you can so THAT eventuality does not occur. I give you full authority. Do whatever you must. Whatever she wants, give it to her._

_Armando_

 

Albus sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rocked back and forth for a time. His thoughts were disorganized and desperate.

_What about what I want, Armando? You were impressed with her sight unseen while I ... I grow more enchanted with every word and glance. My very thoughts do not stray too far from her._

His thoughts drove him to activity. He lit the lantern atop his desk. Armando's parchment lay where he had left it. He paced in his tent with hands clasped behind him.

_I will do my duty as I must but there is so much more I need. I do not have the right but do I dare reach for it? I did last night and yet she did not rebuff me. Does that mean there is a chance?_

 

* * *

There was another who was thinking of the same events in another tent not too far away. Minerva lay back in her bed listening to the night sounds of the desert. Even in the desert the night air could be chilly. But that was not the reason Minerva shivered under her blanket. The reason for that reaction went by the name of Albus Dumbledore.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind but her efforts were in vain. His face kept appearing in her mind's eye. His voice drifted through her consciousness calming her anxieties yet at the same time rousing within her inner self thoughts that were better left unheeded.

_I am attracted to you, Minerva McGonagall._

She had felt paralyzed and uplifted all at the same time. Was it the way he had said the words, the warmth of his hand or the look in his eyes when he spoke to her thus? She should have pulled away, discouraged him soundly. He had been forward and bold, true, but still he had kept his honor and hers. _We did nothing wrong. How can honesty be wrong?_

Her thoughts returned to their walk. Upon exiting the meal tent, Albus had offered her his arm and she had taken it without the slightest hesitation. She had his arm but still she dared not meet his eyes. It was too soon after his admission and a strange tension hung like a shroud about them. They walked a few steps in silence until Albus stopped.

He faced her. In the dim light of the lit torches scattered about the camp, she could see him studying her face intently. "I see that you are still ill at ease."

"Is that what you think?"

"It is what I can sense."

"I'm not used to such ... such honesty, Albus."

"That men would say you are beautiful or that an old man such as I would dare to see you that way?"

"Not that sort of honesty." Minerva took a deep breath. "Albus, you are unlike any man I have ever met. You don't cover your real self with titles of office or hide behind a wall of achievements. You are simply you."

"I find that being myself is the simplest way to live my life." Albus answered. "To thine own self be true."

"And that includes being so ... so open with women?"

"Hardly. With you it came too easily. Thank you for humoring an old man's fancy."

"Old? You are the youngest emissary so far. Professor Emil from Beauxbaton had to be over a hundred and forty."

"I am one hundred fifteen, Minerva."

"Are you?" Minerva reached up a hand to his cheek. "You carry your age well."

The rest of the walk was made in companionable silence. Shortly, they had reached her own tent. "Have a good night, Albus."

Albus took her hand and raised it to his lips for a light kiss. "Shall we discuss Hogwarts in the morning if time permits, my dear?"

"I'd like that. Pleasant dreams, Albus."

Piers had not come to her last night. Perhaps if he had her dreaming would have been of him. But now as she lay wide awake staring at the tent's ceiling, her thoughts were in turmoil, her body restless.

_I should have been more firm and discouraged him severely. A passing fancy, nothing more than that._


	5. Formal Resistance

With the sun barely a thin ribbon on the horizon, Piers cinched his bags closed for the last time. The magical routes crisscrossing Egypt were closely monitored so a lone traveler was relatively safe but it was best to be careful all the same. Having made the trip to Cairo many times he knew what he needed both for the journey and his safety. Satisfied that all was in order, he returned to the heart of the camp and made his way to Minerva's tent.

He found her dressing for the day. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her waist. They both looked at their reflections in the ever present mirror. "I couldn't leave without apologizing first. I behaved like an ass yesterday."

"What else could you do? Stubborn woman that I am." Minerva said just as she finished braiding her hair.

"I have no choice but to love you as you are."

Minerva turned around in his arms and laid her hands on his shoulders. "You didn't visit me last night."

"My report was not going to write itself. Forgive me." Piers leaned his forehead against hers briefly. "Before I leave I need to know that you will keep yourself out of mischief. What have you to keep you busy?"

"There's the new excavation at site four. All indications point to a hidden chamber in the vicinity. That should please Cairo."

"Sounds very promising. Will Albus be helping you with this new discovery?"

"Piers, enough, please." Minerva moved out of his arms turning away from him. She tied her emery bag to her belt, pocketed her wand and picked up her helmet talking all the while. Somehow she managed to never quite meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry but I can't help feeling this way, especially when I see the way you behave around him."

"I do not behave any differently around Albus." Minerva protested.

"I have eyes, Minerva. And if I have noticed, you can believe the others have too." Piers took her hands in his. "When you're with him I can see how much more intense you become. Did you know that your eyes never leave his face when you speak to him or he to you?"

"I find him an interesting man, Piers. His knowledge, experiences, I've never met anyone like him. Everything he's done and -"

"So intellectual fascination is the reason that makes your eyes light up when he's around? Nothing else?" Piers tilted up her chin. He took her silence as some kind of answer and not one to his liking. "Attentions from one such as he must be flattering. I put no blame on you. But tell me so that I may prepare myself, am I to compete against a legend?"

"There is no competition." Minerva put her helmet on and checked her reflection in the mirror.

"Yet you do not deny that you ... that he intrigues you." Piers replied. "We have always been frank with each other. It is unfair to me to be otherwise now."

"What do you want me to say?" Minerva took off her helmet and threw it on the camp bed. "Yes, I find him an attractive man. I do enjoy his company. His charms are beguiling. We spar and, yes, I admit, we flirt. That is as far as it goes.”

“In our years together, you’ve only flirted with me. I cannot share, Minerva, in any way."

"I'm not asking you too. I would never ask you to." Minerva touched his cheek. _Dear sweet, familiar Piers. I would not hurt you if I can help it._ "Albus and I will be talking about Hogwarts this morning. I expect him to to leave sometime tomorrow."

"We are not married yet. I should be more understanding of this ... this flirtation."

"Piers, please don't assume -"

"As long as I am first in your heart, I shall be fine." Together they left her tent and stood in a quiet embrace for a time by his waiting camel. Piers sighed. "I love you. One more kiss then. Enough to last me five entire days."

Their kiss lingered and grew more passionate. Unbeknownst to them, their parting had a witness. Albus looked away but not before seeing the lovers' lips and bodies meld.

He retreated back into his own tent with every intention of subduing his inner demons before facing her at breakfast. _I cannot do this. I must stop wishing for that which cannot be._

Had Albus stayed to watch a little longer he would have seen Minerva return to her tent. If he had followed her he would have heard her softly murmuring, "He loves me so much. I can't ... I won't hurt him with this infatuation. I won't."

* * *

Albus strode into the meal tent. "Good morning, Miss McGonagall."

Minerva looked up in surprise. _How formal we are today._ "A pleasant morning to you, Mr. Dumbledore."

Albus greeted the other team members at the table before taking his own seat opposite Minerva. He did not miss the small smile directed at him. His own eyes lingered over her lips. He cleared his throat. _Talk about Hogwarts and nothing else._ "Would you have a few minutes to spare me this morning to talk about Hogwarts?”

"Of course, Headmaster.” Minerva peered at him closely. His face had a seriousness about it that she had not seen before. "I have some paperwork in my tent. We can talk while I finish them."

To innocent ears her words would have meant nothing but to his guilty conscience they provoked only unease. _Not in private. That is asking too much of a weak man._ To hide his nervousness he sought refuge in physical action. Albus reached for the pitcher of juice. Unfortunately, Minerva had the same idea.

Their hands collided. His hand wrapped firmly around the handle while hers landed atop his. They gasped in unison and their eyes locked. She felt the slight tremor of his hand. For that one unguarded moment, it was as if they each gazed into the other's most secret inner selves - realization mingled with guilt, attraction overwhelmed restraint.

Minerva’s hand tightened imperceptibly upon his before she pulled back. _That should not have happened._

Albus did not break eye contact. _I am awake. I did not imagine that ... electrical charge when our hands touched. Do I have a chance?_ "I don't wish to disturb you while you are working. I can wait until you are free. I mean to say that ... that I will wait at your convenience ... when you are free from work.”

Minerva looked away all too aware of the others seated about them."We are concentrating on site four today. I will be there most of the day. We should not delay discussing your business."

"I am far too much of a disturbance to you."

"It can't be helped, can it?" Her spoken question and the one reflected in her eyes were the same but the answers had such vastly different meanings. T _oo late. Three years too late and there is no help for it. You draw me in with so little effort._ "Your job, I mean, you ... you must do what you are compelled to do.

"Unless there is a reason to resist such a compulsion." His voice was barely above a whisper meant for her ears alone. "Is there a reason?"

In response Minerva raised her empty glass towards him. "I don't know what to do."

Albus hesitated only a second before covering her hand with his ostensibly holding the glass steady as he poured. Instead of the expected charge, there was a soothing warmth where his fingers brushed her skin. "How about a walk later?"

Very aware of the company around her, she added. “Not possible. Have Khalil accompany you to site four in the afternoon. We can have our walk as I show you the site. We’ve made a great deal of progress.”

“That would be most agreeable. May I mention to my superior that you are strongly considering my … Hogwart’s offer?”

“I need to … to be certain. Absolutely certain.”

“I understand.” Albus laid his hand palm up on the table.Mentally, he lowered all his shields. A moment’s vulnerability for one chance in a lifetime.

“Teaching would be an adjustment.” Minerva touched the middle of Albus’ palm. She held her breath as a pulse of energy entered her fingers and infused her entire being with warmth. It was unlike the searing heat of a wild fire. The sensationwas comforting like a lit fireplace in a darkened room on a chilly night. It was like magic finding like magic.

The rest of breakfast passed unremarkably. If their hands touched far too often while passing food along it was not noticed. If their eyes lingered over the other's features longer than was seemly, no one made mention of it. If their shyness and awkwardness displayed themselves it was apparent to no one else. Nothing untoward could be said about Minerva and Albus' behavior at table that morning. But their thoughts would have told a different story had anyone else been privy to them.


	6. A Shaft of Sunlight

Khalil's eyes travelled over the page slowly taking in every letter and word. Consternation was clearly wrought on the young innocent's countenance. Khalil shook his head ruefully as he got to the last sentence in the chapter. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus had been watching the young boy's progress all the while he had been reading. He had lent the boy _The Tales of the Arabian Nights_ yesterday. Khalil was halfway through it already.

"Why are you shaking your head?" Albus said. He was reviewing his response to Armando's letter before meeting Minerva as agreed.

"Aladdin. He was forgetful and foolish. and he treated the genie shamefully."

"Indeed?"

"He forgot about that magician who pretended to be his uncle. Look how his poor mother suffered so." Khalil pointed at himself. "If I had been left to die in a cave and survived, I would not forget the slight."

"There are times that revenge is not always a good thing."

"So one is supposed to forgive such an act? Be FRIENDS !?" The young boy stared at the older man in astonishment. "That is not right."

Albus chuckled softly. "And the genie in the lamp, what of him?"

"I would have made it my friend not my slave. Aladdin was very lucky that the genie did not bring the palace down to ruin at the end."

"Would you have freed the genie?"

"Yes but only if it would promise to never harm me or my family and that it would continue granting my wishes."

"You cannot have your cake and eat it as well and neither could Aladdin."

"What cake? I remember no cake in the story. I know I did NOT skip any pages." Khalil began to rifle through the pages intently. Albus began to chortle out loud and could not stop himself.

"It's an expression, Khalil." Minerva stood just inside the tent smiling broadly at them. "It means that one cannot always wish to have events happen to their advantage or comfort. Sometimes a sacrifice must be made or a task completed with no thought of reward."

"Then why would one do the task if there is no hope of some payment?"

"Everyone has different reasons perhaps for the sheer satisfaction of a task completed and done well."

"Satisfaction does not fill your belly with food or your pockets with anything useful." Khalil replied. "My great, great grandfather had a saying 'Only consider a deal if the benefits are within reach.' "

"Your grandfather was very wise." Minerva replied. "I came by to see if you were ready to see the new site. We have not yet discovered the actual tomb entrance but there are many things that an extra pair of hands can help with."

"Certainly, Minerva. Let me just finish this letter to Armando." Albus studied the headmaster's letter and then reread his own response. "He is quite anxious to have you at Hogwarts. I'm sure that I will be chided for my delay and lack of progress."

She smiled shyly. "Tell him from me that ... that I'm keeping an open mind."

Albus could not respond in words but his crooked grin made his thoughts plain. Minerva and Albus regarded each other silently.

Minerva cleared her throat. "Khalil, can you get us some juice to take with us?"

"Yes, Miss Minerva, apricot juice and water. I'll meet you just outside the camp." Khalil placed a bookmark in the book, shut it and placed it gently back inside Albus' trunk. He left the tent at a quick walk.

Minerva watched until Khalil was some distance away before she moved further into the tent. One step. Two steps. Albus held out his hand to her palm up. She slipped her hand into his. He brought her hand to his lips and rubbed it against his cheek.

"I meant what I said, Albus." Minerva began. "This ... all of this ... you ... confuses me. The only thing I'm sure of is that this feels right. It shouldn't but it does. And ... and I am tempted beyond reason."

"I am afraid you have the opposite effect on me, my dear. I feel as if I've walked into a shaft of blessed sunlight after a lifetime wandering amongst the mists. My vision is clear and my path true."

Minerva stroked his chin. "What does the light feel like? Is it warm and soothing or bright and rousing?"

Albus stood up. He let go of her hand and let his fingers slowly trail up her arm coming to rest on the back of her neck. "Let me show you."

Their lips met of their own accord while their eyes closed. There was no awkwardness, no ungracious fumbling. Neither made any move to enfold the other in a deeper embrace. This kiss was not a melding of passions but it was no less intense had it been one. Their kiss evoked more of the delightful sensations of new discovery and exquisite joy. After a few moments they ended the kiss. Minerva laid her head against his chest. There were no words exchanged. No words were needed. At their sides, their hands met and entwined with each other.

For a time they stood just as they were. Then they left the tent to find Khalil and start out for site four. Albus' letter to Armando lay forgotten on the desk.

 

* * *

The Institute of Egyptology in downtown Cairo was renowned worldwide not only for its extensive and impressive museum collection but also for the gallery of experts it employed on staff. One could hardly find more knowledgeable Egyptologists. One such scholar ambled up the marble stairway and into his private office on the fourth floor. Professor Aneel Hammadi was the distinguished artifacts expert of the time period covering the reigns of Amenhotep, Nefertiti and the boy king Tutankamun.

He opened a locked armoire retrieving from within several rolled papyri. He lay them on his desk with gentleness and respect. He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms out. He studied his hands intently for a time. Potions and its ilk had little effect now. No matter how sharp the mind it must bow to the weakness and decay of flesh. He clenched and unclenched his hands feeling the stiffness caused by advanced arthritis. Age spots dotted not only his hands but most of his forearms. The face he saw in the mirror every morning grew more and more lined. He was rescued from further rumination by the entrance of his assistant - Eoan Griffith.

"You should have stayed home.” Griffith was a tall thin Welshman who always had a ready smile no matter the circumstance. He had been the professor's assistant for only two years but the experience so far had been all good.

Hammadi snorted. “And do what? Putter about in the garden?"

Griffith handed several document folders to the older man. Hammadi lost his second wife six months ago and he had never been the same since. To his eyes, the professor looked as if he was aging faster than ever. "You're not the gardening sort. Have you thought of reducing your hours at least?"

"I have thought of something better." Hammadi leaned back in his chair. He looked at the young man directly with cool calculation simmering in his dark eyes. "We are taking a short trip."

"You just got out of your sick bed last week and -"

"It was just a cold."

"You could easily fall ill again and with something worse than a cold."

"In the years you have known me, how often have I gotten sick?"

"I know of only the one time."

"Exactly. I am not as young as I was and became chilled but I'm fine now." Hammadi unrolled an aged papyrus.

"I can see that it is useless arguing with you. So, tell me where are we going?"

Hammadi took out a small magnifying glass from a desk drawer. "Abu Sindel."

"That far? It will take almost six days to reach it by jeep. Why on earth for?"

"Remember that small expedition to which I granted a concession to?"

"That Rampal fellow was most insistent. He did not like any of our rules either. And he’s only sent in two reports. One page reports!“

"I feel that we need to inspect their progress." Hammadi peered at the papyrus through the magnifying glass. "For decades there have been rumors of an undiscovered tomb in the area. I would like to see how far along they are in finding it."

"A site inspection does not warrant your presence. Let me finish some things and I’ll start on my there tomorrow morning.”

"Will you believe that I have a selfish reason?"

Griffith’s eyes widened at this admission.

"You see I ... I came from that area. As I grow older I find myself needing to visit the place again. Nadia and I had planned to go this year but she had that ... that car accident. So, will you accompany me?"

"There’s a supply caravan coming through that area. I’ll send word through the caravan to Rampal."

"No. An inspection by its very nature must be a surprise. I ask that you tell no one of our trip and destination."

Griffith was puzzled but trusted his mentor's decisions. "I'll start the arrangements. How soon will we be leaving?"

"Tomorrow." The professor rolled up the papyrus and reverently placed it next to the other scrolls on his desk. "I have already completed most of the arrangements. We will be flying to Aswan. We will go by car the rest of the way. I have hired two drivers who will take turns driving through the night. I expect to be in Abu Sindel in two days, three at the most."

"You HAVE been planning this."

"For a very, very long time." The professor sighed. "I can no longer wait. I must come home."


	7. The Misguided Sun

As he looked out over the landscape that was site four, Albus could barely hear his own thoughts over the din of men and simple muggle machines. Men scampered hither and thither seemingly everywhere all at once. Dozens of voices shouted and exhorted their fellows to keep digging. In the middle of the site was a large gaping crater that extended at least thirty meters downward and stretched nearly fifty meters across.

Evidenced by the swirling clouds of sand and dust that hovered over the center of the site, the diggers were making fast progress. A set of men followed the diggers shoring up the tunnel walls and ceiling with wood supports. These men came in loaded with wood and other materials. Coming out they shook off the sands clinging to their clothes while gulping down the water offered by the ubiquitous water boys. After a few minutes of rest they would return again arms laden with wood beams. Once the supports were secured another set of men entered the tunnel and repetitiously carried the excavated sands away to another site further way. This well orchestrated circus was supervised by the three assisting wizards of the expedition. Albus and Minerva stood some distance away on a high sand dune observing the site. Khalil sat cross-legged below them.

Minerva scrutinized the activity with a trained eye. Everything was working smoothly. "This area was once a fertile plain before the climate changed so drastically. We continue to find evidence of civilization meters below the sands. It was the reason I wanted to excavate here instead of the more famous sites up river."

"There was a thriving city here?" Albus asked.

"Oh, yes. Abu Sindel was a well known economic center for agricultural goods as well as mined ore. This small area where we're excavating was the center of the religious area. Many of the Egyptian gods had their own temples. In times long past, all around here were farmers and grazers. A ready labor force for any building project."

"What have you found thus far?"

Minerva lowered her voice. "Our initial scans missed the tomb but on a second sweep, we picked up an energy signature indicating magic was used in the area and in fact seemed to be emanating from a long distance down underground. We tried deeper scans and found a rather extensive building."

"Interesting and rather curious."

"We're at about a thirty meter depth now and we expect the entrance to be somewhere in the fifty meter depth." Minerva explained. "The tomb, and we've determined that it is a tomb from the scan layout, may be largely intact. Buried as it has been I doubt tomb robbers have had their way with it."

"Is it normal for a tomb to be so deep?"

"No. If I didn't know better I would think that it was deliberately buried. Of course that's absurd. All our research in Cairo indicate that there has not been an expedition in this area for decades. In fact there was a planned excavation in the 1900's but that never progressed past the planning stage. The desert has had all this time to reclaim the area burying the tomb more and more over the years and -"

Minerva paused in mid sentence. One of the researchers was making his way towards them at a fast clip waving his arms as he went. Alarmed, Minerva made her to way to him followed by Albus and Khalil. "What is it, Claude?"

"We've found a stone slab. It looks like a piece from the tomb's entryway." Claude Nalette panted. Despite his many years in Egypt and having married a native, he had never fully acclimatized to the weather. Beads of perspiration ran down his face.

"Is it a full slab or partial?"

"Partial." Claude lowered his voice to a near whisper. "It reeks of magic, Minerva."

"Order all activity ceased until further notice." Minerva grinned. "We may be on to something."

The small group made their way to the bustling camp. Minerva waited eagerly as the slab was dragged carefully out of the work pit. She opened her emery bag and took out a miniaturized brush. Carefully she expanded the brush to its full size without anyone noticing what she was doing.

She kneeled in front of the slab. Its very color was unusual. It was an aqua-green shade with white mottled flecks. Behind her she could hear Claude murmur "Amazonite. Sacred to the ancients."

"I've never heard of Amazonite, Claude."

Claude lowered his voice. "It's not naturally mined in this area, Minerva. Very unusual to find a block this size."

"I see." Minerva made a full circuit around the slab. "Why this material? Why not sandstone or granite instead."

Claude nodded his head. "Yes. Strange choice for a tomb. Amazonite was said to soothe the mind and calm the spirits. It has also been called the stone of courage I believe."

Minerva used the brush to gently remove a thin layer of dust and sand. The hieroglyphs she uncovered were clear. As she translated, she said the words out loud.

_Abraxos, ill favored son of Thoth_

_Torch bearer of the misguided Sun._

_Mark well his final rest, ye disturbers,_

_Hathor's gaze shall sit upon thee as the Sun over the land._

"That's all for this slab. Claude, any sign of the continuation of this piece?" Minerva stood up. She instructed two of the workers to bring the slab into the main tent for further investigation.

"Not yet, Minerva. We will dig slower and be more careful." Claude replied. "I'll run another scan later tonight.”

"We better find out exactly what we have on our hands before we do anything rash." Minerva stood. "Khalil, it seems we may be here for a while. Please inform your father that lunch will be served here."

Khalil left instantly. Albus followed Minerva into the large and spacious main tent. It seemed to actually have been three large tents spliced together. The slab was carefully lowered and balanced on four sawhorses devised for just such a purpose.

"Strange wording for what is essentially a tombstone." Albus murmured bending over the slab himself.

"It's an epitaph, a warning and a curse put together, Albus." Minerva said. "One can always tell the status of the tomb's owner by the power of the guarding curse. Hathor was the destroyer of humanity according to some legends. That indicates that we will encounter a very powerful curse. "

"And Abraxos, ill-favored son of Thoth? Does that imply a magician?"

"Without a doubt. Many wizards and some witches aligned themselves with his worship both for the protection it offered as well as the access to the knowledge housed in the various temples. They acted as priests and priestesses in various religious rights." Minerva closed the tent door and brandished her wand.

"What do you make of 'Torch bearer of the misguided Sun'?"

"Misguided sun that can only be a reference to Amenhotep the Fourth who discouraged and changed all worship and customs of any other gods in Egypt save for Ra, the sun god. The pharaoh changed his name later in his reign to one more familiar to modern times - Akhenaten. After his death, his wife Nefertiti became pharaoh. Their son Tutankamun returned Egypt to the customs of old before his untimely death." Minerva whispered a quick and gentle cleaning spell. Dust flew up and away. "The torch bearer may mean a champion or one who stood on the pharaoh's side. This Abraxos might have been close to the royal family, a trusted adviser. Perhaps, one persecuted for supporting the pharaoh once Tutankamun came into power."

Albus rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Can the curse yet be active even after all this time?”

"These tomb curses lose some of their power over the centuries but not much." Minerva cast a protection spell on the slab. "The Egyptians made curse creation a near art form."

"Ah, you've added curse breaking to your list of accomplishments then."

"Somebody has to do it. Why not me?" Minerva grinned at him. "Care to help?"

Albus turned serious. "I would have to postpone my return trip tomorrow."

She focused her attention on him forgetting the slab entirely. "How selfish of me. You have duties at Hogwarts. The term is about to start isn't it?"

"I have already missed the first few days of class." Albus moved around the slab until he stood next to her. "Do you want me to stay?"

Minerva touched his cheek then traced his lips with her fingers. "Can you spare another day or two?"

"I have always done my duty, always. I believe it is long past I did something just for me." Albus leaned into her and their lips met in short kiss.

* * *

Piers sat back on his camel and reflected that he had had little choice in the matter. Dumbledore had driven him to this decision. He would make sure that one day Minerva knew the truth. She would realize in time that all he did was for her benefit and love him all the more for it. Of that he was most certain of.

Piers pulled out a rolled parchment from his bags. He unrolled it and read its contents again.

 

_Piers,_

_I am now ready to finish the potion as we had discussed. It will need to cure for twenty four hours after the addition of the personal items I had specified earlier. Your presence is required for the charm invocation. As such, I will be expecting you in Luxor in a few days. I have also finished a port key that will hasten your return to camp._

_Professional ethics demand that I remind you of the potion's potency. It is very aptly named Forgesi Deziro - to forget the heart's desire - and truly effective. The charm and the potion's combined effects are permanent. No counter charm or antidote has ever been devised against this particular combination. If the recipient fights the effects, the pain will be intense and greater harm may ensue. You must be certain that its use is an absolute necessity._

_I must express my surprise if these items are intended for your lovely and devoted Minerva. When last you both visited me, I was most certain that she had eyes for no one but you. Is there no other way to win your lady's heart?_

_Your faithful friend,_

_Abdul Ramallah_

 

Piers laughed softly to himself. “Yes, my friend, I am quite sure that this is the only way. I have waited all this time and I will not give her up. I will not take any chances not when I am so close to my heart's desire.”


	8. Finding Another Heart

The headmaster paced in his office with hands clasped tightly at his back. The frown that had first made its appearance last week seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his forehead. The new Charms Professor Filius Flitwick sitting in an armchair by the fire watched Dippet as he made yet another circuit from one end of the office to another.

"This is unlike him, Filius. It has been more than a week with no word. Not a word."

"Traveling to Egypt takes a bit more time than visiting London or Paris, Armando."

"Would a quick note have taxed him so? I must answer Theodore’s letter. The longer I wait the more time he will have to crow over me. He still has not forgiven me for stealing you from under his nose last year."

"As I recall he accused you of masquerading as the antithesis of St. Nicholas. One who taketh not giveth."

Dippet snorted sitting on one edge of his desk. " A wolf among sheep was his chosen metaphor with him assaying the role of the cuckolded shepherd. My talent chooses to manifest itself at inconvenient times and places. I have long ago resigned myself to it."

"Sounding me out at Beauxbaton's own Christmas feast was far from ethical."

"Perhaps a bit more tact would have served better but, Filius, I swear, the first time I met you I knew that I needed you here. Hogwarts needed you."

"How did you know? You've never told me."

"It is not a knowing exactly." Dippet drummed his fingers on his desk. "I am not a seer nor am I blessed with visions of any sort. However, I did inherit my family's innate talent for finding things or people. The very first Dippet made his living finding water for his muggle neighbors. From then on there has always been one or two in my family that developed the finder's touch, as we call it."

"A useful gift for a headmaster in need of faculty." Flitwick observed wryly.

"It is not that I purposely seek out teachers at other schools, it just happens. The instant I meet someone, see a picture or hear a name, I may sense that he or she can benefit Hogwarts in some way. I then do what I can to make sure that Hogwarts proves fulfilling for that teacher."

"I will say that your efforts have been successful. The faculty as a whole is very satisfied here." Flitwick commented. "We have spread the word to our colleagues."

Dippet pointed at a tall stack of flattened letters on a corner of his desk. "I feel rather guilty being besieged by applications from highly qualified and sought after professors. The other headmasters have intimated to me that they feel they have to settle for Hogwarts' leavings, faculty wise. My protestations of innocence fall on deaf ears. By the by, you are still on speaking terms with Theodore are you not?"

"Oh, yes, never did he blame me directly for my seeming defection." Flitwick grinned. "I will admit that Beauxbaton had its attractions but your offer, let alone the chance to be at Hogwarts, well, it was irresistible."

"Albus had better make his case utterly irresistible!" Dippet slapped an open hand hard on his desk and stood up. "What is taking so long? It is a simple Yay or Nay."

"From what you have told me of Miss McGonagall and that which we have been able to glean about her family background, simple it will not be. She has many options open to her."

"She needs to be here, Filius. I rarely feel this strongly about anyone. She must accept."

"Your gift does not guarantee certainty then?"

"No. The decision is wholly hers to make as it was for you. I can only sense in my mind and heart that she belongs here and nowhere else. For her sake, Albus must succeed."

* * *

The pen hung poised in mid air ready to commit to the first letter and word while the journal lay open and waiting on the table. Their mistress however had other thoughts and plans than to dutifully catalog the finding of the entrance stone. Minerva looked at the blank page and for once could not proceed. Not because she had nothing to write but because what she wanted to write and what she needed to write were two vastly different things. Her mind was not on dry, academic terms. Instead her thoughts centered on the man carefully making an etching of the stone marker.

Minerva turned from her journal to study Albus openly. He was a tall man but not imposing. His presence did not overwhelm. Yet, wherever he was people took notice. His face was not handsome but rugged and full of character. His voice was not loud but soft with the unmistakeable stamp of conviction and strength. _Strength and bravery. He's not afraid to be gentle and strong. He's not afraid to want, to give or to need. Qualities I craved and never knew until now._ She sighed. "To think I dreaded your arrival and now loath your leaving. We are in a tangled mess! What is the right thing to do, Albus?"

Albus looked up from his etching. He laid the chalk down and walked to Minerva's makeshift desk. "I know what I want and need. I want to hear you laugh at least once a day. I need to look into your eyes when I first awaken each morning. I crave to kiss your lips before I fall into slumber. With that I am content but I will be happiest to have your heart be light and free."

"When Piers returns, I'll break things off cleanly. It's the only way." Minerva's hand grazed his sleeve. "Will you wait? It would be painful to him were I to run to your side too quickly. He has been good to me all these years. I owe him to show respect for his feelings and not shame him in front of those who know of our relationship."

"How long do you need?"

"A few months. I want to finish the excavation properly. I will come to you at Christmas.”

With one finger Albus tilted her face upwards and gazed into her eyes. "Is this, us, what you really want, Minerva?"

Minerva did not look away. She consciously mimicked his earlier declaration. "I want to hold your hand as we go on long walks together. I need to talk, to banter with you every day and every night. I crave to feel your touch every moment we are together."

"Am I the man you want? You have only known me for a few days. True our magicks sing together. But harmony and compatibility do not guarantee any relationship.”

"For once my heart and mind are in full agreement." She cupped his face in her hands. "I have discovered that all those notions of romantic love are not so unbelievable. I lay all blame at your feet. Why you ask? Because you are the man who makes me take notice whether I want to or not. You are the man who makes me feel joy in being alive and in your company. You are the man with whom I can be myself with no thought to hide my feelings or thoughts. For all those reasons and more are you the man that I want to be with, to get to know better. That is, if you will have me?"

"Sometimes having is not as good as wanting. What if you find me lacking, my dear?"

Minerva wrapped her arms about his neck. "I propose that we do all we can to disprove that old saying."

"I accept your proposal, Ms. McGonagall." Unheeding of their surroundings or the fact that anyone could stroll in, they touched lips. Albus pulled her tightly against him deepening the kiss. There was no lightness to this kiss nor tender exploration. All was heat fueling the urgent need to get as close to the other as possible. Some time later, one of them moaned softly as they parted. "Now that I have secured you for myself, can I interest you in taking a position at Hogwarts?"

"You are incorrigible!" Minerva laughed. "Fine. You may state your piece. I warn you teaching does not come naturally."

"I've seen you with Khalil." Albus drew up another chair and sat upon it facing Minerva.

"One child does not compare to a classroom full of them."

Albus motioned for Minerva to rest her legs on his lap. Smiling impishly, she did as he asked. "Armando said that you have not formally applied for a position but word was spread of your interest."

"One sentence in a long letter to Uncle Theodore started this whole thing." Albus unlaced her boots then took them off. To her delight, he began to rub her feet. "Hmm, is this part of the Hogwarts benefits package?"

"As Deputy Headmaster I am obliged to see to the happiness of the staff in any way I can." His hands kneaded the soles of her feet with a light but firm touch. "Uncle?"

"Not by blood. He was my father's best friend. After my parents died, Uncle Theodore looked after my education."

"Was there anyone else in your family? How old were you?"

"Just me and my grandmother. I had just turned eleven when my parents died. In fact I was at Hogwarts in first term."

"What? It must have been just before I started teaching. What house were you sorted into?" Albus moved to her ankles.

"Gryffindor."

"I do not remember seeing your name among the graduate lists."

"For my own protection, grandmother and Uncle Theodore both agreed that my leaving England was for the best. I left Hogwarts and moved to Beauxbaton. During summer holidays I would live with my grandmother. I had always thought that I would either go into the family business like my father or research as my mother had."

"And what is the family business?"

"The Diplomatic Service. My father was the English diplomatic attache assigned to the Paris office. All the McGonagalls had served the public in some function or other. My mother's family, on the other hand, were all academics." Minerva could not go on. Albus' hands had traveled upwards to her calves and were now gently kneading her flesh through the material of her trousers. She gasped aloud. Her head lolled back enjoying fully the sensations his touch provoked from her body. "Albus ..."

"Ever since I saw you in your trousers I've wanted to touch your legs." Albus ran appreciative hands up from her toes to her knees. "This is the best I can do for now. Should I stop?"

Her back arched a bit as his hands slid up her thighs. His thumbs rubbed concentric circles into her flesh a few inches above her knees. "No ... yes ... no. You are doing your utmost to convince me, aren't you?"

"Would you expect any less of me? Do lie back and relax, Minerva." Albus moved his hands descended downwards once more. "The letter?"

"I had realized early on that I did not possess the proper temperament for the service. My mother agreed and she encouraged me to excel in academics. My grandmother used to say that I am much like her daughter was. I suppose she's right. I have multiple honors in Transfiguration and Charms, a pile of published works and here I am finishing my thesis on Egyptian Transfiguration just like my mother."

"To have accomplished all that so early is admirable." For his gentle massage of her calves, Albus was awarded with a whispered moan.

"But where do I go from here? That's what I wrote to Uncle Theodore about. He said that I ought to consider teaching. I did not agree with him nor did I refuse outright. Because of that I have been approached by almost every educational institution professing their need of my services."

"You have refused all offers so far."

"I am uncertain if teaching is suitable to me. Will I have the patience to deal with my charges? I grew up in a world of adults, Albus, I can relate only uneasily with children. I've had good teachers and bad. I would like to be seen as a good teacher. Can I learn how to be one?"

"You do not wish to continue in research work?"

"No. I embarked on this excavation and a research career for a reason. It's my reason and it has driven me and my choices for as long as I've lived." Minerva pulled her legs from his lap and sat up stiffly.

Sensing her change in mood, Albus gave her his full attention. "Go on."

"My parents' deaths were not natural. The doctors all thought they suffered from a magical degenerative disease. It was only years after their deaths that the truth finally revealed itself. An ancient unrecorded curse was laid upon them. I vowed while my grandmother lay dying that I would find the curse and the cure. It was my way of honoring my parents but also so that it could never be used against anyone else's family. Years of research, preparation and false leads have finally led me here to Abu Sindel."

"Minerva, how can you be so sure what you seek is here?"

"The curse was rare and unknown because it was practiced only by a small sect of Egyptian magicians. They kept the secret amongst themselves. I have narrowed the sect's main influence as extending in this area and this area alone. The knowledge is here."

"You have several excavations ongoing here. Where do you begin your search?"

"I was hoping to get lucky, Albus."

Albus looked at her closely. Her eyes were alight with excitement. "I take it you got ... lucky?"

"Unbelievably lucky. You see I know who made the original curse and it is his tomb that we have found."


	9. Of Desire Sinister

It was very clearly said but still Dumbledore was at a loss for words staring at Minerva with his mouth slightly open. Minerva's impish expression and bright eyes put one to mind of a feline preparing itself to pounce on a newly discovered trove of unattended fish. Minerva stood up and stretched. She moved to the tablet and laid a hand on it then turned to look at Albus once more.

"Abraxos' name was very prominent in magical artifacts of this period. One series of hieroglyphs in a fresco found in Aswan by my mother indicated that the enemies of Akhenatan believed him to have some kind of weapon. A weapon he used specifically against those he perceived to have been his enemies. It was said that this weapon killed slowly and without a trace. The affected would be healthy and in the course of a few months would be dead of seemingly natural causes - cardiac abnormalities, kidney ailments or high fever were some descriptions. It was because of this weapon that Akhenatan's purging of the old gods in favor of the god Ra was tolerated."

"Akhenaten was overthrown wasn't he?"

"Yes, in a political coup just after Abraxos was said to have disappeared. In Nefertiti's times the fear of the weapon subsided. It became something of a legend. Something used to frighten misbehaving children." Minerva looked at the tablet again briefly. "This find confirms my theory, Albus. The weapon died with Abraxos. There were some papyri with notes about the curse, the Lingering Death, but they only pointed to the fact that the curse was new and known only to a few and fewer still knew how to invoke it."

"But did not your parents die of this curse?"

"A derivative ... something similar to this, yes. Some remnant of the knowledge has survived. How? I don't know that yet. I hope that by tracking it from the source I can discover its trail in modern times."

"Then what? Revenge against your parents murderers? An eye for an eye? Taking that road is not wise, Minerva."

"Revenge in that manner is useless to me. It will not bring my parents back, Albus." Minerva walked a full circuit around the tablet before going on. "My mother was intrigued by the mystery of the Lingering Death from a strictly academic standpoint. When she got too close, someone made sure she got no closer. I want to find him, expose them. Abraxos, here, is my first real clue."

"His disappearance can now be attributed to his death. From what you've said so far, it seems to have been for the better." Albus observed.

"Abraxos was murdered, well, cornered and then murdered. A group of wizards took it upon themselves to rid the court of his madness. They actually used that word 'madness.' He was lured away from court then set upon. There has never been any kind of indication of what happened thereafter but with the finding of the tomb we can now be certain of his fate."

"They were that afraid of him?"

"They were that jealous of him. The sect of Thoth was brimming with scholars. But scholars can be just as devious and greedy as any other." Minerva returned to sit upon her stool. "From what I've been able to piece together about him I believe Abraxos was a prodigy of sorts. His rise through the ranks of the sect was fast, too fast in the eyes of some. Once he became a favorite of the pharaoh he became brazen and willful. He followed the dictates of the pharaoh to the letter, utterly loyal and without mercy."

"Great power and ability are lures to the ambitious and the downfall of the vain glorious." Dumbledore mused. "He must have been very lonely. All that knowledge and no one to share it with."

"Were you not considered a prodigy, Albus?"

"It is said that my magic made itself known at my birth. Apparently, I levitated myself from the mediwitch's arms to my mother's."

"Barely out of the womb and already precocious." Minerva teased.

"I will have you know that I was considered a very grand baby indeed, Miss McGonagall. Of easy temperament if my mother is to be believed." Albus' expression grew serious yet his eyes grew soft, tender. "How many of our children will be as precocious do you think?"

Silence met that heady question. Minerva looked down at her hands. Her pale cheeks bloomed into vibrant color. Dumbledore winced inwardly at his words regretting not the thought but his abominable timing. "I am sorry, Minerva. There is no serious arrangement between us. I did not misspeak my mind but I ... I should have thought better and -"

Minerva cupped his face in her hands and dropped a quick kiss on his nose. "Thank you for misspeaking so boldly. When I am ready to have several precocious children I will be sure to let you know, Mr. Dumbledore. In fact, you will be the first to know."

"You are full of surprises, Minerva." Dumbledore gave in to temptation. He ran his hands up and down her shoulders and back memorizing the feel of her under his hands before finally resting about her waist. "A woman who wears trousers. A woman who leads like a man yet is always a lady. A woman of conviction and purpose."

"What about stubborn, indecisive and impetuous? These past few days has shown me far from the image of womanly virtue."

"Is the guilt so great?"

"Guilt mixed with disappointment and a full measure of shame. I thought I was a better person than I am." Minerva placed her hands on Albus' shoulders. "What kind of person throws away three years with barely a thought? What kind of person accepts advances from another man. No, I must be honest. I flirted wantonly with you. Not once but again and again."

"The fault is not your own entirely. I ought to have kept my feelings to myself. The shame is mine for I did not. I could not."

"Piers will be hurt. I would avoid that if I could but -"

"I will stay and -"

"No, my Albus, I've begged more of you that I ought to have. I realize that now. You have duties waiting for you at Hogwarts. Piers will rail and sulk but he is a good man. He will accept my decision."

"My Albus?"

"You call me my dear. Can I not call you my Albus?"

"As you wish, my dear." Albus trailed a line of kisses from her cheek down to her neck. "I will leave sometime tomorrow. But I will have you sign a letter of intent. Only with that can I secure Armando's forgiveness at my delay."

"I will sign anything you want." Minerva smiled wide before saying playfully, "Now, what can I have to secure you to me?"

"You need nothing, my dear." His eyes always so expressive now hid nothing of his thoughts or his feelings as he looked at her. "Do you not feel my heart beating within your hands at this very moment?"

It was entirely too much for her. Her reserve broke. The tears came. With a gentle hand he wiped each one away. Words alone would have proven inadequate so nothing was said. But much was expressed in their embrace. They held each other for a time savouring a closeness neither had ever felt with anyone else.

* * *

The olive skinned, pudgy wizard looked over the table at Piers. The young man had arrived a few minutes ago. Abdul had quickly taken him into his work room and provided some refreshments. As Piers began to eat and drink, Abdul asked again if Piers was sure of the absolute need for the potion. His eyes showed only concern.

"I question you as a friend to you and to Minerva. I've known you both together and separately for many years."

"I see. I see it very clearly." Piers shook his head. He took a long sip of his juice. "You are HER friend, Abdul, she did introduce us didn't she? You're trying to protect her interests."

"I merely want to gauge for myself if this potion is truly necessary. Minerva is a very strong-willed woman. Her passions run deep beneath her cool surface. I will have to make this potion far stronger than normal to counter her will." Abdul looked at Piers closely. He opened a trunk and held a vial aloft. "Is this truly needed? Has her ... her desire for you abated? Have you quarreled?"

Piers' silence provided no answer so Abdul continued. "Relationships are never easy. I saw for myself how she cares for you. Perhaps this trouble between you is a simple misunderstanding. Look at me. Married nearly sixty years and tasked with a quarrelsome woman yet never would I trade her for any other. Why? We know, respect and tolerate each other. It can be made to-"

Piers slapped an open palm flat hard on to the table. "You are being paid well, Abdul! It is not your place to question me!"

"I thought of you as a father to a son. Very well that is the way of it." Abdul put the vial back into the trunk and locked it securely. He pulled a small velvet bag from within his robes. He flung the bag onto the table where it landed with a dull metallic thud. "You may see yourself out. Find someone else to brew your work for you. I will not have my potions misused."

"Abdul, look, I am not in the habit of discussing my private life with anyone." Piers ran a hand through his hair clearly agitated yet fighting to remain composed. "Minerva ... there IS someone of interest to her. She says that there is no attachment but I cannot be sure."

"You already suspect that there is, why else would you be here."

"Her behavior changed the day after he arrived in camp. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. I don't think she was even aware of it herself."

"It could well be a sudden infatuation. Nothing more than that."

"I can't take that chance, Abdul." Piers looked down at his plate. He moved the food around as he spoke. "You know how much I love her. All I've ever wanted was to take care of her."

"Then you must do what countless lovers have done before you - fight for her."

"It's not ... not that easy. He's powerful both in magic and position. And ... and Minerva becomes tense whenever I say anything against him."

"Is she being compelled against her will, do you think?" Abdul's alarm was clear. "You said her behavior changed suddenly."

Piers thought carefully about his next words. You see her as your daughter don't you, fool? He raised his head. He looked Abdul directly. "We had words about her behavior. But when I left I made peace with her and parted with ... with great affection. But there WAS something different."

"She must be under a spell. That is becoming obvious." Abdul rubbed his chin with his hand. "And the other man how long was he in her company?"

"Dum- ... he was still there at the camp when I left."

"You left her there to fend for herself!? Where was your sense?" Abdul began to rush about the room preparing fires and opening cabinets. "Minerva may be powerful and intelligent but she is a mere woman. What must he be doing to her now? We must hurry you back there. The sooner the better."

Piers looked quite dejected. "I could do nothing but watch her grow more and more ... fascinated with him."

"Well, your instincts were true. You did well to ask for my help." Abdul opened his trunk and pulled the vial out. "Where are those personal items I asked for?"

Piers opened his bag and pulled out a wrapped bundle. "Here. Fabric and hair and some of her writings."

"Good, good." Abdul slowly unwrapped the bundle. "I will finish the potion now and let it cure until tomorrow."

"This will work?" Piers asked urgently. "You're certain? She can be very stubborn when she sets her mind on something."

"Oh, yes, my friend, whatever spell she is under will be utterly dominated by this potion. The charm will make the potion's effects permanent. Nothing, no counter charm or hex, can override it." Abdul poured the vial into a large cauldron. "Now, you have a rest. You must have a clear mind when we jointly create the charm tomorrow night. Then we must get you back to your camp quickly. The sooner to fight for your lady's heart."

Piers trudged up the stairs to the kitchen. He looked behind him once at the busy wizard and a corner of his lips lifted upwards. The world that Dumbledore had disarranged would be righted again and soon.

He turned back and continued up the stairs calling for Abdul's wife. "Hema! Do you have some of that wonderful bread around? Hema!


	10. Lament of Times Past

Abdul sliced the long loaf of bread filling the basket as he went. His wife Hema bustled about putting more dishes on the table for the evening meal. Piers poured them all some apricot juice.

"The potion will be ready by tonight, Piers."

"That's ahead of schedule isn't it?"

"I feel that haste is of the essence, my friend."

Hema stopped moving long enough to make her feelings known. "You should not have left her with that ... that man."

"Hema helped me with preparing the potion while you were resting."

"And the charm?" Piers slathered butter on his bread.

"It will be ready late tomorrow afternoon." Abdul took a long drink of his juice.

"Good. I can return tomorrow night."

"I suggest waiting until the following morning, Piers. The potion is delicate and must be treated with great respect."

"Enough about this unpleasant business. We are dining and should speak only of joy." Hema took her seat at last. "What are your plans for after you and Minerva are married, Piers?"

"Yes, I have been rather curious myself. Will you both be continuing your research work here?" Abdul asked.

Piers took his time before responding. "We would love to stay in Egypt but other matters call us away."

"If it is not prying -"

"There is no prying among friends," Hema teased her husband.

"I stand corrected."

Piers laughed softly. "I hope Minerva and I will be just like you two some day."

"You are not nearly as impossible as Abdul is." Hema pointed out.

"If I were not so impossible you would have grown bored of me a long time ago." Abdul retorted.

Hema gave her husband an amused look. "So, you are not staying in Egypt, then?"

"No." Piers served himself some more food. "You see there are properties and business interests back home that were bequeathed to Minerva as the sole heir of her parents. She's been studying or doing research for so long that they have not been tended to as they should have been."

"Minerva once told me that on her parents' death, her grandmother was given charge of the estate." Abdul said.

"Yes, that's true. But her grandmother died unexpectedly last year so now it falls on Minerva to deal with things."

"Minerva is very lucky to have someone like you by her side." Hema noted. "She is a strong woman and her man needs to be stronger if he is to take good care of her."

Piers declared, ”I want nothing but Minerva's happiness."

* * *

In a car skimming at great speed along the surface of the desert, an elderly passenger drank hot tea from a small thermos. Without warning, he clutched at his chest. Sharp claws of pain ripped through his body. Beside him his companion became frantic watching as his friend and superior writhed in the back seat.

“Professor! What's wrong? Professor!” cried Griffith.

Professor Hammadi hunched over in his seat. His gnarled hands grappled uselessly on his chest. "Forgive me, Nadia. I did love you in my ... my fashion."

"Where's your medication?!" Griffith asked. "You must have some!"

"Bag ... in my bag."

With great care, Griffith laid the ill man flat on the back seat. He ordered the driver to stop the car. As Griffith rummaged through the professor’s small bag, he noticed that the sick man had stopped clutching at his chest. His head swayed from side to side. His fists clenched and unclenched. The professor began to rave softly; his voice changing now and again as if he were relaying both ends of a conversation. Occasionally, Griffith would catch a nonsensical phrase or word.

"Home, we must go home. Fight, old one, fight!" This voice was deeper with a harsh raspy edge.

"No more. Please." This voice was weak, plaintive. "Let me die."

"My time will not end like this."

"All things must end ... even you."

Concerned by the strange ramblings, Griffith took a long look at Hammadi’s face. The habitual sharpness in the old man's eyes was now absent replaced by confusion and fear.

"For all I have granted you, you will live!"

"So tired ... no more please."

"Frail, useless vessel. Must I do all for you?"

The professor’s world narrowed to a kaleidoscope of memories too long suppressed; far too many for just one man, one lifetime. The memories were of a time long past.

_The almost comforting presence of the deep desert's heat as it enveloped him in its embrace at every rising of the sun._

_The first grudging praise given to him by the wizened elder Nazoor upon completion of his adept studies. "You have done well, young Abraxos. Never stop learning for that is the secret to true wealth."_

_Days and nights spent in the company of the elders learning all he could. The other adepts snubbed him as often as they could outside of the elders' notice. He grew indifferent, even disdainful, at their petty jealousies._

_The elation at being singled out by the elders and appointed a clerk at the Pharaoh's court. True, it was a minor position but the position paid well. He would be able to continue with his research on his own._

_The respect accorded to him by the Pharaoh Akhenatan when he had created a potion that eased the Empress' labor and delivery. For that act he was handsomely rewarded and admitted into the Pharaoh's trusted inner circle._

_The first searing touch of first love when he grew enchanted with a young handmaiden serving the Empress. He had nervously asked for her to become his wife. The Pharaoh graciously granted his permission._

_A young woman with a warm smile greeting him at court then holding his hand as they walked home together every night._

_His desperate fury at the death of his wife. He knew it was no accident. He had many enemies and they would pay for her death. No one would be spared._

Griffith cradled the old man in his arms. "I have your medicine. Can you hear me? I'm going to put the pill in your mouth then give you some water. You'll be good as new again. All right?”

He took Hammadi’s quiet moan as a positive answer. Carefully, he administered the pill. He placed a small cup full of water to the professor’s lips. At first, it seemed he refused to drink. Then, after a few heart-stopping seconds, his lips moved and he sipped.

Griffith unfolded a blanket and lay it about the vulnerable man. "Driver, get started again. The sooner we reach Abu Sindel the better."

* * *

Back in the camp, Khalil was helping his father clean up after the evening meal had ended. Mr. Hamdi noticed that his son did not chatter happily as he normally did. In fact, Khalil had seemed almost sad most of the day.

Mr. Hamdi waited until Khalil had finished clearing off one of the table before asking him to come to him. "I have been watching you, my son. You seem sad. I do not want your mother to see you like this. You know how she worries."

"I will be happy when I get home, Papa. I promise." The young boy said the words with great solemnity.

"You have been working here almost every day. You are only a boy, you must be tired. Stay home tomorrow."

"No, I cannot. I would lose a day's pay. That is a month of school.“

"Khalil, I am not blind. I am proud of all the things you do here. But you must not overtax yourself."

"What work? I fetch things, clean a little and help you at meals. The work does not tire me."

"Then why do you seem sad and tired tonight if not the work."

Khalil sighed. "Albus is leaving tomorrow."

"I see." He motioned for Khalil to sit beside him on the bench. "Of which are you more sad - Albus himself leaving or the loss of his books?"

"Both." said the young boy honestly.

Mr. Hamdi chuckled and ruffled his son's hair fondly. "Albus has been very generous to you. What do you need to do?"

"I should go and thank him before he leaves. Perhaps, he will leave me a book and I can-"

"Khalil, you are to thank the man and expect nothing in return."

"But he has so many books in his trunk, papa. He can hardly miss one." Khalil protested.

"Khalil, he is an honored guest not a customer." Khalil's little shoulders drooped at this rebuke from his father.

After a full minute of thought. "I will not ask for anything."

"Very good. Go see him now. You may not have an opportunity tomorrow."

Khalil paused at the entrance to Albus' tent. Mentally, he rehearsed what he would say. By his side, he carried a book he had just finished. With one hand he parted the tent flap. There was no light within the tent but he could hear movement so he knew Albus was within. Khalil moved in carefully. His eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Something he saw brought him up short.

Silhouetted in shadow and moonlight were entwined two forms he knew very well. Their sighs and whispers were not for his ears.

Silently, Khalil turned away and closed the flap a little more securely than the way he had found it. He would say his own goodbye to Albus tomorrow.


	11. Gifts of the Heart

Albus kept his left hand on the small of Minerva's back. He so wanted to embrace her but they did have an audience. Khalil stood in front of Minerva and Albus. Albus gripped his right shoulder. Mr. Hamdi adjusted his camera lens several times. "Now, a big smile, everyone."

They all smiled. Mr. Hamdi clicked the shutter.

"Mr. Hamdi, could you make a copy for me as well ... to remember the deputy headmaster by," Minerva said.

"Certainly." Mr. Hamdi replied.

Albus squeezed Minerva's hand. "Well, Miss McGonagall, we will await your arrival at Hogwarts and -"

"Og-warts?" Khalil asked.

Albus looked down at the boy. "My school. It's called Hogwarts."

"I've agreed to teach there, Khalil."

"You will be together at the school?"

Minerva smiled. "Yes, we will. As soon as the excavation is over, I will be off to Scotland."

Albus sighed loudly. "I should be off myself. Thank you, especially you, Khalil, for making my time here so enjoyable."

Khalil hugged Albus' middle. "Thank you for letting me read your books. I'll never forget."

Albus returned the hug. "And I won't forget you." Albus shook hands with Mr. Hamdi. "You have a wonderful boy here."

Minerva handed Albus a map. "I've marked the shorter route. The rental manager gave you instructions for the long way. The short way cuts at least a day off."

"Anxious to get rid of me, are you?" Albus teased. The sadness in her eyes sobered him. "I shall see you soon. It's only a few months."

Minerva fidgeted and crossed her arms across her chest. "So much to do ’til then. Take care of yourself."

"I promise. You do the same. I don't want to have a sick teacher on my hands."

Albus mounted his rented camel. He turned and waved behind him. His eyes lingered on Minerva before resolutely turning to the desert before him.

* * *

Inpatient fingers tapped against the the surface of the table. A flask hung suspended over a low fire in the center of the table. Its amber contents bubbled softly. The Forgesi Deziro looked rather harmless. Next to the flask lay Minerva's personal objects - some hair, a scarf and a letter made in her hand. Piers stilled his fingers and schooled his features to calmness.

"Explain again why we have to wait until tonight," Piers asked. "Potions was never one of my strong subjects."

Abdul clapped the shoulder of the younger man. "We will begin this morning by placing a few drops of the potion on each on of Minerva's possessions. This will begin the ritual of identity bonding."

"That will brand the potion for Minerva, correct?"

"Yes, in order to be effective, the potion must be unique to the one who will be consuming it." Abdul arranged Minerva's objects in a row on the table. "When one casts an accio spell like accio my wand, your wand is branded with your ownership, so the spell knows what to retrieve for you. The Forgesi Deziro potion has a much more difficult task than mere ownership. It must shape a person's emotions and memories."

"Memories? Wipe them, completely?"

"Not all memories only those which are related to strong feelings like intimacy or love. Such memories will be erased. It will be as if they had never happened." Using a dropper, Abdul placed five drops of the potion on each object. He mouthed an incantation in Arabic. He said Minerva's name twice. After he finished, the objects began to glow in the same amber hues as the potion ultimately would. Wisps of white smoke rose from the flask. "There the ritual bonding has been initiated. When the smoke becomes amber then the ritual is complete."

“The potion will be ready by tonight?”

"Yes. I will teach you the charming spell while we wait. You need to say the charm while Minerva drinks the potion."

"If I don't?"

"Then the potion's effects do not become permanent."

"I see. That's good to know." Piers breathed out, in and out again. "Now, we wait."

* * *

Khalil ran across the camp to Minerva's side calling out, "Miss Minerva! Miss! Albus has left his trunk behind. We must follow him."

Minerva's expression was serious but her eyes shone with suppressed merriment. "Did he now?"

Khalil took a few deep breaths. "The bed is empty and the desk too, but his trunk is under the cot."

"Perhaps he meant to leave it." Minerva put her arm around the young boy's shoulder. They began to walk towards Albus' tent. "Before he left this morning, he told me that there were some things that he could not carry back with him. I am assuming that whatever those things were are in the trunk he left behind."

They reached the tent and Minerva opened the trunk. As the air escaped from within, she inhaled deeply. Albus' unique scent lingered in the tent but the trunk had held his personal effects and so his scent was more pronounced. Inside above a layer of books, they found a letter for Minerva and another for Khalil. Sitting on the cot, Minerva put aside her letter and watched as Khalil read his letter.

Khalil read the letter through once and his eyes darted from the letter to the trunk and back to the letter again. "The books ... the books ... he's given them to me. All of them ... to be my treasure like Aladdin!" With some reverence, Khalil lifted a few books and placed them on the cot. "My own atlas. The binding is beautiful. The Adventures of Sinbad! Idylls of the King?"

Minerva fingered the leather bound book fondly. "It's full of heroes and adventures."

"I must tell my father." Khalil stood up and made to leave but he turned back. "Will you watch my books until I come back?"

Minerva chuckled. "I would be honored."

The boy scampered away. Minerva opened her letter.

_My heart,_

_The days shall ebb to night. The sun shall warm my face and the rain shall cool my brow. All this I know shall pass and be. But I watch you sleeping and too soon I miss your smile, your eyes, your touch. What shall I do to temper this longing?_

_Your sleep is restless. I touch your cheek to soothe you. Your eyes open and I return to lie with you again. I hold you close as you twine your legs with mine. How can I leave my heart behind?_

_Because of you I dare to dream of things once beyond my reach. It is your unwitting gift, my love. For each day we are parted, your gift shall lend me strength and purpose. When you come to me, I shall show you our new home, our new life. We have been wanderers too long, you and I._

_Until that day, know that I leave my heart with you, always. But how do I leave my heart? An object at Hogwarts inspired my gift. Touch your mirror and gaze upon it. There will be my love and my heart for your sight alone._

_Hurry to me,_

_Albus_

Minerva wiped a tear away just as Khalil led his father into the tent chattering happily. Minerva looked away for a moment to compose herself. She carefully placed Albus' letter into her pocket.

"Look, papa, look! All mine!" Khalil gestured at the open trunk.

"Is this true, Miss Minerva? Did Albus leave this for my boy?" Mr. Hamdi asked.

Minerva stood up. "Oh, yes, very true. Albus wanted to travel light you see."

Mr. Hamdi studied the books. "The English school has nothing as fine as this. This is too great a gift for one so young."

"But they're mine!" Khalil protested. The thought of losing his gifts was too distressing. "I will take care of them, Papa, I will! I will be so very careful and ... and di-li-gent."

"I know you will and I will help you. This gift came from Albus' generous heart so your gratitude must be of your heart."

"What shall I give in return?" Khalil looked up at his father.

"Perhaps, a large rug or a tapestry or -"

Minerva interrupted what could easily turn into a long conversation. "I need to get something from my tent before I go to site four. I'll leave this in your capable hands."

Minerva restrained her impulse to sprint to her tent. She peered cautiously into her mirror. She saw only her reflection. What was Albus' gift, she wondered. She traced the frame of the mirror. As her fingers made contact she felt a small charge. An image of Albus appeared behind her image. She watched mesmerized as Minerva and Albus embraced, smiled at each other, held hands or kissed gently.

For a time she sat on her bed and just gazed at the mirror. After a half hour, she roused herself. The sooner her work was done, the sooner she could retire. She wanted to fall asleep looking at Albus.

* * *

In Cairo, Piers shared last meal with Abdul and Hema. The last time he observed the potion the smoke had gone milky white. It would not be much longer before it was completely amber in color. He estimated a few hours at most. Near the end of their meal, an owl landed on the counter. Hema gave the owl some meat and handed the scroll to her husband.

Abdul began to read. "Hema, you will never guess who this is from."

"Who?"

"Albus."

"Do not tell me he is once more trying to persuade you to become a potions master at that school of his."

Abdul laughed. He looked at his wife fondly. "As much as I would enjoy the salary, the weather is atrocious."

Under the table, Piers drew his wand against his leg. His body tensed in anticipation and dread.

"What does he want then?"

"Let me see. The light is so poor here." Abdul moved to stand by the door where a bright lamp hung. "Abdul, I have found a muggle born emerging wizard. I have seen his powers manifest with my own eyes. He is young about ten but very clever and charming."

"Albus is such a good man." Hema observed.

Abdul continued to read the letter. "I ask that you see to him next year and help him enroll him at the Cairo Institute. I will speak with the Institute headmaster about creating a scholarship to cover tuition, expenses and a stipend. His information is below."

"How many scholarships has he funded by now?"

"Dozens I believe." Abdul shifted the letter to see better. "You must be wondering what I am doing here in Egypt, old friend. I am on yet another recruiting mission for Armando. But this time I am successful. A young, talented witch will be taking a position as Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts later this year. I do not believe you know of her. Her name is Minerva McGonagall ..."

Husband and wife looked at each other horrified. Hema exclaimed. "Oh, Piers, Albus is a man of honor. He would not -"

Hema never finished. A jet of green light shot out from Piers' wand hitting Hema. "Avada Kedavra!"

Abdul bolted out of the kitchen muttering, "Allah, preserve us, I must ... must destroy it."

The potions master turned a corner just as a wall beside him convulsed absorbing the power of the killing curse. Abdul ran harder. His chest heaved and his legs grew heavy. "What have I done?" He could hear the younger man gaining.

Abdul reached his laboratory and slammed the door shut. Without hesitation he threw himself at the objects on the table. He scattered them to the floor breaking the connection to the potion. His eyes looked to the flask. "Allah forgive me!"

He felt the stab of the killing curse. "Amber ... too late, too late -" In the last moments of his life, Abdul nudged the stand that held the potion. The potion slid to the table and began to roll. Its contents dribbled out.

Piers ran to the table to save his potion. He caught the flask before it could roll off completely. It was still half full. "This will be more than enough. You will be mine, Minerva. All mine."


	12. Spectre of Death

The joyous shriek was wholly unexpected from such a dignified man. The headmaster ignored the looks from the portraits on the wall. Armando held out Albus' letter and planted a kiss on it. "Albus did it! He did it!"

"You have finally lost your mind, Armando," said Dilys Derwent from her position on the west wall.

Armando laid out Minerva's acceptance letter on his desk. "Maybe I will someday but not today, Dilys."

"My portrait is still shaking from your yelling. What has Albus done this time?"

"He has secured this school's future." He made a copy of the acceptance letter then put a protection spell on the original. "Miss Minerva McGonagall will become a Hogwarts professor."

"The youngster who's had you in a dither the last few days?"

"The very same." The relief that filled his body was profound. The tension in his gut dissipated. "She's important. I don't know why ... just that I know we need her."

"Your hunches have all proven correct and fortuitous," commented Phineus Nigellus. "Is she the last? The last piece in your grand design?"

Armando laughed in happiness. Then he glanced at Phineus' portrait. His finding talent flashed something into his consciousness. "No, Phineus, I think there is one more. One of your house."

"A Slytherin?" Nigellus looked thoughtful. "Whatever you offer him or her, it will cost you dearly."

“Very likely.” Armando closed his eyes trying to recall the fleeting insight. "Hmm. The vague form is a man, old and young at the same time."

"Old and young? You contradict yourself." Nigellus snorted.

"A man with an old soul. That seems right.”

Dilys commented. "A soul with no form means he has yet to be born."

"I think you're right, Dilys. I sensed no substance of body or mind just a presence."

Nigellus paced in his portrait. "A future born then. I shall begin to pay more attention to my house, Armando. That I promise you. You are certain of your ... your vision that he will be needed?"

"Yes, I am." Armando reread Albus' letter again. "Do what you can, Phineus. In the meantime, I have preparations to make and a letter to Theodore to write. Today is very much a good day. Yes, it is."

* * *

Minerva rushed through the morning meal. The food was as usual splendid but her mind was on the excavation. The sooner it was over, the sooner she could start her new life with Albus. Upon her instructions, all the workers were brought to site four. Claude's night time magical scan had revealed that they were almost right on top of the entrance. Claude had instructions to fetch her immediately when the entrance was breached.

Minerva surveyed her belongings. She planned to focus her energies at the dig site yet still begin preparations to leave quickly. She had decided to begin packing early. To earn extra money, Khalil had eagerly offered his help. She knew why he needed the money and so she had given in easily.

Beside her Khalil waited patiently. He had much to think about. His father had said that he would take him to market in a few days so he could select a proper gift for Albus. He had yet to make a decision on a gift.

Minerva positioned two large empty trunks to the center of the room. She took a fountain pen and wrote down a list of things intended for which trunk. After she had finished she gave the list to Khalil. "Now, there is no rush on this, Khalil. Do a little every day."

"Yes, Miss Minerva." Khalil quickly read the list. "Should I start wrapping the mirror, too?"

"No!" Khalil was startled by her too-quick response. Minerva took a calming breath. "The mirror should be the last thing packed. I need to see it, to use it every day, don't I?"

Khalil nodded. "I will do this when I have time, yes? I will not miss Albus so much if I keep busy."

Under her breath she said, "That is the general idea."

"My mother always makes us children clean our house when my father is away for a long trip." Khalil began to arrange her past journals and papers into the first trunk. "You miss Albus so you make more work at the site."

Minerva was astonished at his insight. "Khalil, why do you say such a thing?"

"You like each other and you said you would be together at the school. Because of that you are packing. What else should I believe?"

"Does, ah, does anyone else see things the way you do?"

Khalil stopped his task and looked at her solemnly. "I have told no one of what I saw."

Minerva quickly ran through her memories trying to determine if she and Albus had behaved loosely around the boy. She kneeled down to eye level. "What do you mean, Khalil?"

"It was an accident, Miss Minerva, truly. I came to say goodbye to Albus but you were there ... with him ... doing ... giving him your goodbye."

Minerva covered her flaming cheeks. "I ... we ... oh ... I don't know what to say. We should have been more careful."

"I have many brothers and sisters. I know that men and women, when they care about each other, share of themselves. That is what my parents do and Allah blesses the ... the sharing with more love and children."

Minerva was taken aback. "You know that I am engaged to Piers."

Khalil shrugged his shoulders. "You share with Albus now. Mr. Rampal should find someone else."

From the mouth of babes. Minerva stood up. "You're absolutely right, Khalil. Life does not stand still."

A figure rushed into her tent. Claude wiped his brow and said "Minerva, come quickly. The entrance ... the tomb is ... is nothing like I've ever seen! I've given the workmen leave to have a long rest."

"Khalil, where's my helmet?" Khalil scrambled searching the small tent for the elusive helmet. It was under the bed.

Claude leaned close and whispered. "Bring your wand. We are preparing the tomb now."

Minerva put on the helmet. "Khalil, please help your father to bring refreshments and food to the site. The men have worked hard and well today."

As Khalil departed, Minerva opened a locked case, removed her wand and slipped a small notebook into her pocket. "Is it all we hoped it would be?"

Claude grinned. "More, Minerva, much more."

* * *

The shelves were clear. Books and shattered decorations littered the floor. Furniture was upturned and torn. The once tidy and comforting home had been ransacked. Piers banged his fist against the wall.

Since last night he had searched for the port key that would have taken him to a location only a day away from Abu Sindel. But the missing port key was not the thing that drove him to near madness. He could not find the charm. The charm that he was to invoke as Minerva drank the potion had not been written down anywhere that he could find.

With disdain, he looked at Abdul's body. In the morning he had dragged Abdul and Hema's bodies into the living room. Next to them was a container of flammable liquid. A clock on the floor showed the time as early afternoon. His fruitless search had wasted too much time.

"I'll do it without the charm, then!" He shouted at the bodies. "I only need her to forget him! Once we're married and bound nothing else will matter! She will love me and only me!"

Piers gathered his bag making sure the potion was secure and protected. He placed the bag at the door then went back in. He began to spill the liquid on the bodies, the floor and the furniture. When he was done, he slung his bag over his shoulder and threw a lit match into the room. He spared a second's glance to make sure the flame had started to burn. It had already tripled in size.

He quickly loaded his camel and rode away. He did not look back.


	13. That Which Darkly Glitters

It came in halting gasps did the old man's breathing. Hammadi glanced at Griffith dozing beside him. Hammadi closed his eyes. Within his mind he heard the Other speak.

_We are close to home. A day no more, perhaps less. The air is as I remember it._

Hammadi repeated a wish uttered a hundred times since they had left Cairo. _I beg you to seek another plan._

_There is no other. I must survive and you must help._

_Griffith is a good man. He does not deserve this._

_I see I must remind you of your great sire's pact with me. Once again._

Hammadi’s mind reeled as Abraxos, the one he knew as the Other, took control.

* * *

_1880 in the Nubian deserts near the ancient city of Abu Sindel_

The lantern flickered once and then died out for the second time. Moamar fumbled for his match. He cursed under his breath. Tomb robbing was not his normal occupation and he was discovering that the task took more skill than he had anticipated. Moamar took a deep breath and lit his match once more. He could hear his companion's movements as he set to work stoking a brazier full of coal and tinder. Moamar's lanterns provided too little light. Fortunately, his hired raider came prepared.

"For a man so skilled with words, Moamar, you are far clumsier than my worst apprentice." Talmet expertly blew small puffs of air at the brazier to hasten its flame. He was a large man with tight curly hair graying at the tips. His rough, sunburned skin testified to his work.

The pair presented quite a contrast. Moamar with his straight hair was spare and about a decade younger. His skin was taut and unaffected by the ravages of the harsh desert. He hailed from Cairo, city born and bred. Talmet was raised in the small settlement of Jhasif outside of Abu Sindel. Talmet was the first of his family to learn a trade and he was justifiably proud of that fact.

"I, Moamar Hammadi, am a lawyer not a tomb robber. Give me an argument to present to court and I will show you skill." Moamar replied. Moamar listened for other noises but heard nothing not even the ever-present desert wind's whistling lament. Before this assignment he had read all he could on ancient tombs. In no literature could he remember any mention about the absolute absence of natural sounds in a tomb.

"How did you know this tomb existed?" Talmet added more kindling..

"My client had the information. I am simply following his instructions." Moamar spared a quick glance at his companion. Were Talmet not so talented a stonemason and a proven raider, Moamar would never have considered him a worthy partner. Two hours spent in the coarse man's company was more than enough to grate on his every nerve.

Talmet stood up and surveyed the room trying to make out their surroundings. As he moved, his canvas bag hung on his shoulder. His tools clanged within. "Will your client mind that we have helped ourselves first?"

"Not as long as he gets what he wants."

"We have been here for more than an hour. I promised Mira I would be home before sunrise." Talmet brandished his lantern aloft.

"And you will be, Talmet. Your wife will forgive your lateness once she sees the treasures laid at her feet." Like Talmet he advanced holding his lantern high.

The combined light from the brazier and their lanterns banished the dimness from the room. They were in a small antechamber. A thick layer of unbroken dust and sand hid the entire floor from view. Brightly colored hieroglyphs made their way upwards from the floor to the ceiling. In the middle of the opposite wall was an engraved seal indicating the individual for whom the tomb was constructed. Moamar compared the insignia with something similar drawn in a small notebook lying open on his palm.

Talmet passed his lantern against the walls looking at the glyphs closely. Though he was no true scholar, Talmet had over the years learned to recognize certain glyph sequences and pictograms. "Did you not say that this tomb belonged to an advisor of Amenhotep IV?"

"Hmmm, yes." Moamar looked back and forth from the seal to the notebook. "This is a tomb of a minor administrator named Abraxos."

"He must have been an astronomer, too, then." Talmet ran a finger across a glyphic symbol representing astronomy and science. Further along he saw something that drew the breath out of him in a slow hiss. It was unmistakable. Its colors and form as vibrant as the day it was painted hundreds of years ago. It was an ibis or parrot-like bird holding a scribe's palette and stylus. Talmet knew that this was and still was the symbol of the worshipers of the god Thoth - the patron deity of wisdom and knowledge. It is said that it was Thoth who first created magic and then brought magic into the world of man.

Moamar reached inside his inside pocket and took out a small vial. Inside the vial was a blue liquid thick as oil. He then took out a small brush. "Talmet, come here. I need you to hold the lantern while I open the seal."

Moamar began to carefully brush the blue liquid over the ornate seal. As the liquid met the stone, it began to glow. To Talmet's eyes, it was as if the liquid had a life of its own. Soon the vial was empty and the seal was covered completely. After a few minutes of silent observation, the blue liquid glowed red and before their astonished eyes, the liquid seemed to seep into the very stone. The seal began to sink into the wall an inch or two. As the seal dug in deeper, a sound like rushing sand came to their ears. As abruptly as the sound started it stopped. The seal was no longer on the surface of the wall. It was embedded half a meter into the wall.

The two men looked at each other uneasily. The wall in front of them began to move aside as if it were a door being pushed aside. Cautiously, they advanced into the room. It was larger than the antechamber but not by much. In the middle was a rectangular crypt carved out of red sandstone.

"This is the burial crypt. Precisely where the notebook said it would me." Moamar approached the crypt eagerly. Talmet was a little more hesitant. "I need your help here. Hold the lanterns high while I make a tracing of the cover."

Talmet watched as Moamar first wiped loose dirt and sand off the crypt's cover. Satisfied that the area was clear of debris, he spread a long thin sheet of vellum from end to end. He rummage in his small bag for some chalk. Starting from the top, Moamar meticulously made a rubbing print of the engravings decorating the crypt. It was slow going. Talmet arms began to ache from holding the lanterns so long. To distract himself, he looked down on the images being revealed by the rubbing. The symbol of Thoth was plentiful both as an ibis and as a baboon. But there were other symbols that he did not recognize. He did not believe they were entirely Egyptian either.

Moamar finally rose and groaned clutching at his back briefly. "Thank Allah that is done. Now one more thing to do and we can depart this place." He rolled the vellum carefully and put it into a small circular case. He then took out a small knife. He used the knife to gouge out a small gemstone from the cover of the crypt. The gem was well placed and Moamar grunted in frustration several times. After a few more minutes, he was successful in dislodging the gem from its holder. Moamar held it up briefly.

"This is for my client." Moamar said. He looked down at the two other gemstones embedded in the cover. "The sapphire is mine but I believe Mira would appreciate the dark opal, Talmet." Moamar grinned then slipped the emerald into a velvet pouch. Moamar began to work on dislodging the sapphire.

Talmet fingered the black opal reverently. Never had he seen a gemstone of its like. In the light, the ancient gem still sparkled. The gem was large half a palm in size. Upon its surface was inscribed a faint symbol in silver. Mira and the entire family would be honored to possess such a stone.

A grinding sound made them look up. The stone door was sliding itself shut. The men rushed to the door. Both tried to stop the door from closing but human strength was to no avail. Moamar pushed and pushed against the door. Talmet, after a moment's reflection, took his lantern and began to prowl about the room.

"Come back here and help me open this door!" Moamar dug his fingernails into the door joints probing for any opening.

"You are wasting your time. That door is counterweighted by a heavy rock. An old trick to dissuade robbers. It will not open for us now." Talmet went to the far wall looking up and down rapidly scanning the hieroglyphs on the walls. He touched and pushed every wall. "There is another way out of this room. We need to find it quickly."

Moamar leaned against the door panting heavily. Perspiration from fear and exertion beaded on his forehead. "The notebook does not show any other entrances or exits out of here."

"One cannot learn everything from books." He looked at the crypt itself. He scanned the outside of the crypt carefully. Experimentally, he pushed against the crypt. The crypt did not move nor make any sound. His eyes fell on the lid of the crypt. "Come! Help me lift the lid off the sarcophagus."

"You are insane! There's nothing in there but a mummy's remains." Despite his words, Moamar walked towards the crypt. Too heavy to be properly lifted, they settled on sliding it sideways until it lay leaning against the crypt. They peered inside and saw the mummified remains of Abraxos.

"There ... you see ... that was for nothing." Moamar said.

Talmet held his lantern over the remains. His eyes looking everywhere taking in all the details. He rolled the mummy gently to the side. He drew back the decaying cloth underneath the mummy. The cloth hid a panel made of copper. "We need to lift the mummy out."

They removed the mummy and all the other contents of the crypt. Scattered about the floor were various figurines and other objects. But the two men were too intent on the panel to give the rest any notice. With hearts pounding and breaths coming in low gasps, they lifted the panel. Underneath was revealed a series of stone steps carved into the very rock leading down into darkness.

"This looks like the way out." Talmet said. He grabbed his lantern and put one leg over the side of the crypt.

"What are you doing?!" Moamar cried. "You don't know where that leads to."

"You stay here and I will look." Talmet started down lantern in hand. "I will return for you."

"Wait! It's better to go together." Moamar followed Talmet down. Was it his imagination or was the air growing stale?

The steps went down a long way. They found themselves in a tight hallway wide enough for only one man to advance at one time. The ceiling was so low that they had to crawl on all fours pushing the lantern ahead of them as they went. Time passed. How long neither man really knew.

"There! Do you feel it?" Talmet's voice rose in excitement.

"Feel what?"

"Air. It is slow in coming but fresh in scent."

"I knew we were on the right course." Moamar said. "Hurry up then!"

They scrabbled through the tight passage. The further they went the wider the passage became until they could both stand side by side. They came to the end of the passage. There they were confronted by a metal gate. The gate looked very solid with its thick bars running its height. A sturdy metal latch passed for a lock. Beyond the gate, they could see the faint outlines of a large room. The air here was cool with the faint tang of desert. The way out was clear.

Thinking only of his family and how he longed to see them again, Talmet took out his chisel and mallet from his bag and proceeded to destroy the metal latch. Moamar held the lantern aloft. The metal was soft and it only took Talmet a few minutes to break through. Talmet swung the gate open. One would think that a gate more than a thousand years old would make some noise but this door was silent. A chill ran through their bodies as they entered the dim room. A small red glow in the center of the room caught their attention and they moved towards it.

The glow came from the eyes of a lone figure, an ibis, set on a pedestal of marble. The eyes pulsed bright then dim then bright again. Moamar approached the figure eager and curious. As he got closer he could see that the body was pure gold and the eyes the finest of rubies. This was a prize worthy of all his efforts and hardships.

"Moamar, do not touch anything." Talmet implored. He had robbed many tombs in his time but this place did not feel like any other tomb to him. A skittering sound in the distance made him turn. But he saw nothing. His skin grew clammy. He fell to his knees as he felt his chest clench tight as if bands of metal were squeezing his very body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Moamar doubling over in pain. He looked at the ibis and saw the eyes move to watch him. The pain was overwhelming and he collapsed onto his chest.

Splayed on the ground, Talmet heard the skittering noise again. It seemed closer. Ignoring the fiery pain coursing through his body, he flipped onto his back and turned towards the sound. His hand clamped hard around his chisel, his only weapon. He saw nothing. He trained his eyes on the edge of the darkness watching for movement of any kind. Then he heard the voice.

"You are mine!" The voice lacerated his mind deep as a whip on bare, wet flesh. "Mine!"

Talmet writhed on the floor. His words were raspy yet defiant. “No! I … I will not … dishonor my family. Never!” Darkness descended on Talmet Hamdi for the last time.

Moammar clawed at his chest. A voice filled his head. A bargain was sought. There was knowledge and riches to gain. It was a choice between life and death.

Moammar crawled out of the tomb. He was alive and he was not alone.


	14. Discoveries Brought to Light

At Minerva’s order, a great midday feast was offered to the workers. They had after all labored long and in difficult circumstances. Minerva sent the Muggle workers home early after eating. As site cleared of people, the wizards and Minerva gathered at the tomb entrance.

"Everyone, we know our procedures and roles. There are no changes to them. Claude, mark our time please." Minerva ordered. Next to her Claude marked the official entry date and time in the research log. "Claude and I will go in first. The rest of you will follow in the usual order. As we progress further into the tomb, I may resort to some feline reconnaissance at which point you will track me by the bell that I will be wearing on my collar."

The wizards all nodded their understanding. For many of them this was not the first archeological site they had worked on with Minerva. Her procedures and rules were numerous and adherence was strictly enforced. None of them grumbled or were impatient. They all knew the rules were in place to assure a safe excavation. Her attention to detail had on more than one occasion saved all their lives. Charging headlong into the unknown was not one of her favored strategies.

All had their wands and magical equipment in hand. In tombs and burial places, magic was pure and strong. Because of that, powerful wards were placed over the ancient sites and trails in Egypt thereby confining the magical energies to their appropriate places. Practical magic use was severely discouraged and in some places entirely prevented by the wards. A clumsily cast spell could have disastrous effects in places of such potent magic. As such, the excavation team had relied on muggle methods until the tomb had been unearthed. Now, only their wands could help them inside.

Mr. Hamdi, Khalil and the site foreman were the only natives to stay behind. However, they had not been permitted to stand too close to the tomb. Khalil found this instruction a strange one and kept vigil as close to the entrance as he was allowed. He watched intently as Minerva donned her hat and secured her gloves. His eyes surveyed the other scientists. Khalil noted that none of them carried shovels or hammers. Miss Minerva had only her helmet, emery bag and a long cylinder, perhaps wood, tucked inside a belt loop. No one carried a lantern. How were they going to see where they were going, he wondered. Ever curious, he stayed quiet and watched.

As Minerva took her first steps into the tomb's anteroom, she was startled by the frisson of awareness that rippled down her spine. The sense of magic, ancient and powerful, was potent. She glanced at Claude beside her and noted the excitement on his face. The hairs on her arms prickled at the strong currents of magic in the tomb. The deeper they progressed into the tomb the more tangible the magic felt, like hands forming a circle around them. Claude turned a corner and motioned for Minerva to follow.

"I've found the inner crypt, Minerva." Claude kneeled down and with his lighted wand scanned all around the doorway. "The charmed seal looks intact."

Minerva was no novice but the situation was not to her liking, not at all. "We're taking this very slow, Claude."

"Slow? The tomb hasn't been disturbed and the seal is intact. Let me get Miklos and we can begin cataloguing immediately."

"No, not yet," Minerva gazed around the chamber. A quick spell increased the light radiating from her wand tip. Pictographs and hieroglyphs covered the walls colorful and bright as the day they were painted as if time itself had stopped after their creation. "Something is not quite right."

"The magic is stronger than anything I've ever felt, true enough," said Claude. "But the tomb hasn't been desecrated. It's ideal."

"No, Claude, we have to be careful. The sense of magic is too strong. And look at the reliefs on the walls. No deterioration in shading or tone. That's unnatural." Minerva looked above at the ceiling and sniffed the air. "There's hardly enough dust in here. All this time and the air ... the air, Claude, it's not fresh but it's not stagnant either."

The two continued to study every corner of the room. Minerva informed the others waiting to wait a little longer. "Claude, what can you tell me about the charm?"

"Typical ritual incantation. A charm and a curse in one." Claude peered closely at a hieroglyph on the door frame. "Even I could break this one."

Minerva chuckled. Among the team, Claude was universally known as being the least skilled in charm work. His specialty was medicinal potions and ancient languages. He often served as the team's mediwizard. While Minerva had broken the most seals and curses of them all, everyone else on the team, save Claude, had at least one broken or unlocked seal to their credit. She knew getting one seal for himself meant a great deal to him despite his good humored handling of the teasing aimed his way. "All right, Claude, give it a try."

Claude studied the seal intently. Minerva stood a few meters away to give him room to work. After informing the rest of the team of what was about to be done, she cast a quick shield charm about her person and vicinity. She watched Claude work through his own precautions before attempting to break the seal. Claude nodded at Minerva indicating his readiness. She nodded back indicating hers.

Claude cast the unlocking charm. A spray of light erupted from the seal. Claude shielded his eyes with his hand. Dust rained down on him and Minerva. The spray subsided to dull sparks before dying out completely. An enormous grin spread over Claude's face. The seal was broken.

Minerva patted Claude on the arm. They waited a few minutes for any residual effects to occur. Nothing untoward happened. With her doubts somewhat mollified, Minerva said a standard opening spell. Her body tensed in anticipation. Accompanied by the noise of stone grinding against stone, the wall covering the opening slid to the side. Minerva called out to the rest of the team. "Come down. Claude has opened the burial crypt."

The other wizards entered the tomb and quickly began their routines - recording the glyphs on the wall, the broken seal and mapping the tomb's layout. Claude and Minerva advanced into the darkened anteroom wands blazing like small suns. While Claude prepared orb lights to brighten the room, Minerva surveyed the rest of the room.

On her knees, Minerva studied the stone crypt. Speckles of brown desert sand stood out against the normal gray dust of the tomb. She could detect a fine, hair thin space under the lid. The spacing and the brown sand confirmed her suspicions. "Claude, the crypt has been opened."

"The seal was intact. I'm sure of it."

Minerva pushed with all her strength on the lid. She could feel it move a little. A little was too much. "Irregardless, this lid has been moved."

"Perhaps, the priests had to make adjustments."

"Maybe. Bring some of those lights here."

Claude waved his wand and the small spherical torches hovered over the crypt. Minerva cast a levitation spell and the massive stone lid floated up and to the side.

"Merlin!" Claude exclaimed.

Inside the crypt, a mummy lay on its side obviously out of position. The burial objects that would normally be placed around the body were carelessly piled in one corner. A hole at the bottom of the crypt beckoned like a dark and mysterious abyss.

"I guess it's time for further exploration." Minerva said while untying her emory bag.

"Minerva, there's no record of anything like this being found." Claude removed the mummy respect evident in his care.

"For everything there is a first time." Minerva removed the burial artifacts one by one. Minerva tied a ribbon around her neck. A small bell hung on the ribbon tinkling softly. Her wand she secured on her belt. A second smaller wand she put inside one of her boots.

Claude cleared the rest of the materials lining the crypt. "Be careful, Minerva."

Minerva climbed into the crypt. "Ready?"

Claude nodded. He watched as Minerva transformed into a sleek, gray house cat. The cat flicked its tail once before disappearing into the abyss.

* * *

Back in the main camp, Griffith stepped out of the dust covered car. He called out but there was no one around. The camp was deserted. From inside the car, he heard the dry, raspy breathing of his friend and mentor. “Professor, please, don't try to talk yet. This is the camp but there’s no one here."

"Rampal?" Hammadi wheezed from the back seat.

"No one is here." Griffith spotted a tent with a cot inside. He instructed their two hired drivers to carry the professor into the tent.

Griffith explored the camp and found the dining tent. He and the drivers drank their fill of a pitcher of juice set on the table. They would wait for the rest of the camp to return.

* * *

In a bazaar in Luxor, an illegal port key exchanged hands. Piers pocketed the item and rode off to an open area outside of the city. Astride his camel, he took hold of the key and disappeared.


	15. Out of Shadow's Grasp

Wizards worked nearly soundlessly in and around the anteroom and crypt - incantations were whispered, wands waved with the least amount of motion. They worked making magical copies of all the glyphs and friezes. Another wizard mapped the tomb one room at a time. All were fully aware of the pervasive sense of incorrectness. Since they had entered they were all in agreement that this tomb was not all it seemed to be.

Claude wiped his brow while leaning into the crypt. As was his custom and role, he listened intently for Minerva's bell. If her bell was not heard for five consecutive minutes then it was a sure sign of trouble. Should this event pass, Claude and one other wizard would follow Minerva into the tunnel and another wizard would act as sentinel beside the crypt. The sounds of the bell were getting fainter, farther but it was audible. Claude patted his pockets for his wand readying himself as best he could.

_Ding ... ding ... ding_

In the tunnel below, wisps of dust rose in the wake of each step made by the silvery cat. Minerva's bell did not peal loudly or frequently for her every step was deliberate, measured. Her ears twitched right and left alert for the slightest aberrant sound. Her cat sight strained to see further and clearer in the inky blackness enveloping sleek form. Her whiskers swayed imperceptibly feeling the slight draft of fresh air. She walked on.

The passage was often uneven with walls not quite smooth, ceilings that slanted inwards at odd angles and a floor that sloped downward in small degrees. The incline was not too great as to cause one to be be wary; it was enough to give the impression of continuous descent. A normal-sized man would have found the tunnel challenging. There were times that Minerva was quite grateful to be a cat. This was one of those times.

Some minutes later, Minerva noticed the passageway becoming wider. As soon as it had become tall enough to accommodate a person standing up, she transformed. She stood stock still letting her human senses acclimate to the chill, the darkness and the silence. Gingerly, she stretched her sore muscles while looking around.

From experience, she knew that immediately casting magical spells, while convenient, was not always advisable. Many a tomb were designed to not only entrap muggle robbers but even those of magical persuasion. Minerva took out a small muggle flashlight the size of her hand from her emery bag. With its illumination she studied the passageway looking for any glyphs or markers. She trained the light further into the gloom. Was that a flicker of something shiny down at the end? She couldn't be sure.

Since nearly being buried alive in a tomb in the Valley of the Kings, caution had been her watchword. It made her pause before continuing on down the passageway. She called out. "Claude! Claude! Can you hear me?"

Even with her enhanced hearing, Minerva could only make out every other word of Claude's response. She must truly be deep underground. "Barely ... are you ... need ... help?"

"I'm all right. The passage is tight in places but structurally sound." Minerva rang her bell several times testing it. "Claude, I am proceeding further in, another fifteen to twenty meters in my cat form."

"Be careful!"

Minerva stretched her arms wide one more time before transforming. Once more, she took stock of her environment before moving into the darkness again.

_Ding ... ding ... ding_

* * *

Piers slowed his mount. He squinted into the sun. He could just make out the outlines of the camp. His eyes watched for any movement. There were none.

He kept his wand in hand as he moved closer. There was something wrong. Why weren't there anyone moving about? It was midday; a time that the camp should have been bustling with activity. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it was a trap.

Piers spotted the dark car parked in camp. He slid off his camel and cautiously moved towards it. He peered inside and found no one. He head whipped around at the sound of voices coming from the meal tent, masculine voices. A tall man of slender build stepped out headed for the car. Piers recognized him at once.

"Mr. Griffith, isn't it?" Piers called out affably. He pocketed his wand.

"Dr. Rampal, good to see you. We had almost thought the camp abandoned." Griffith walked towards Piers hands outstretched. They shook hands.

"We?" Piers asked.

"Professor Hammadi, two drivers and myself. That's all."

"You are always welcome, of course, but I must admit to some curiosity. Is this an inspection?"

Griffith was grave. "Not exactly." He led the way back to the meal tent. "Let me explain why we're here."

"Wait, a moment, please." Piers took in the camp in one long searching glance. "Have you seen, Minerva, I mean, ah, Dr. McGonagall?"

"No. You're the first person I've seen let alone met."

Piers tamped down the flutters of panic forming in his stomach. _What if she's not here? Did he take her away already?_

Griffith looked puzzled. "Isn't she with you?"

Piers made a show of dusting off his clothes and stomping his boots. "Oh, no. I was ... on another site some distance from here. I thought she would have made it back before me."

"The camp is empty. I thought you normally employed native labor."

"I do. But as you are probably aware we are reaching the expiration date of our site charter. The locals are split between two sites. We are in a frantic rush to get as much done as we can." Piers schooled his features to their most genial and friendly. "You understand how it is."

Griffith smiled. "Yes, yes, I do. Never enough time to do things as one would like."

"So, why are you here and where is the good professor ?" Piers bade Griffith to enter before him. Piers took note of the two drivers. One was sprawled asleep on top of a table at one end of the tent. The other was awake but had his face lying on his arms.

Griffith sat down at a long table. "The professor is resting. It was his decision to come here ostensibly for an inspection but I have my doubts about that now.”

"Doubts?" Piers poured himself some juice.

"Professor Hammadi is very ill, gravely so. He said that he had been raised in the area and I strongly believe that he wanted a ... a last journey for memory's sake."

"Yes, memory is a ... a difficult mistress to appease at the best of times. You are not here then for a formal inspection?"

"Yes and no. You see the professor mentioned the possibility of a lost tomb hereabouts. I suppose he wanted a last discovery or two." Griffith clasped his hands on the table. “He granted you and Dr. McGonagall the site charter in hopes that your team would find this lost tomb."

"Indeed?"

"We are here to see what progress has been made. At least that is the official reason. Have you found anything?"

Piers smiled. "We have actually. We call it Site Four. That's ... that's where Minerva is right now."

"It's a new, unknown tomb?"

"Absolutely. In fact, we have several sites with digging crews but Site Four proved the most promising."

"And how is the excavation?"

"Fine, just fine. Minerva's team, and in fact, everyone will be returning for evening meal. She can catch you up on progress then."

"Very good. The professor will be so pleased."

"Why don't I show you to a tent where you can rest. You must be tired."

"Exhausted. The professor was very sick on the way and we drove as fast as could here."

"How ill is the professor?"

Griffith looked him straight in the eye. "He's dying. He won't admit it but I know. I know why he wanted to come here."

* * *

Back at site four, Claude was very worried. Minerva's bell had drifted further and further away. He looked down into the hole trying to catch the faint tinkle of her bell. He called her name several times. "Minerva! Minerva! Answer me!"

"What's her mark?" a wizard asked.

"Four minutes and twenty seconds."

The wizard addressed the others. "We know the protocol. Claude and I will go in after her. One of you becomes the spotter. Then -"

Claude interrupted. "Wait, wait, I hear something."

The others held their breaths and focused their hearing. There! It was faint but it was the unmistakable rhythmic tinkling of Minerva's bell. They collectively exhaled.

The bell was getting closer, pealing madly, as if its owner was running flat out. Claude stood back as the sound got closer. Shortly he could hear foot falls in rhythm to the bells.

In a few minutes, the silver cat bolted out of the deep hole. It did not stop to catch its breath. It leapt out of the crypt and transformed. A piece of parchment was rolled up in one hand.

Minerva's eyes were wild, her hair in disarray. "We have to get out! Get out now!"

"What? What are you talking about?" Claude asked over the babble of other voices.

"I'll explain later," Minerva tugged on her colleagues pulling and pushing them towards the exit. "We have to get out! Go! Go!"

The fact that none of them had ever seen Minerva so panicked was enough to galvanize them into action. They streamed out of the exit quickly, half running, half sprinting out. Khalil sitting by the entrance was unceremoniously lifted into Claude's arms and carried away.

Minerva did not stop ushering and urging them all until they were completely clear of the entrance and at least twenty meters away. The entire timeMinerva never turned her back on the tomb as if anticipating pursuit. She ordered a head count. Only when everyone was accounted for did she let a fraction of tension seep from her very being.

"What ... what did you find?" Claude gasped.

"This isn't a tomb." Minerva gripped her wand hard. Her eyes stared at the entrance. "This is a prison. One meant for eternity. We need to bury it again. Soon. Just pray we haven't let anything loose."


	16. Turning Point

Minerva led the exodus back to camp. Every now and then Claude, bringing up the rear, checked behind them nervously alert for anything out of the ordinary. The brief glance at the parchment that Minerva had carried out of the tomb was enough to make him realize that their simple excavation had in short order become a great deal more complex, more perilous to spirit than mind. His fist held on to the parchment while his other hand clutched his wand.

Eager to get back to camp as fast as possible, Minerva went over a sand dune and transformed. Running not far behind her, Khalil saw her change. He blinked a few times but never stopped running. "The wonders of Allah," he exclaimed. His small legs pumped harder keeping the silvery cat within sight as well as he could. Questions upon questions lay upon his tongue. They soon left the rest of the team behind.

As she got closer to camp, Minerva noticed the strange cars. The cat paused for only the barest instant before transforming and approaching the rear of the camp on foot.

In the growing dimness of dusk, Khalil stopped amazed at the sight. His eyes raked her form checking for hair, limbs and movement. Had he not seen her change, he would likely have thought himself dreaming. Like her, he slowed his pace.

As soon as they neared the center of the camp, Khalil ducked behind a tent. Using tents and boxes to conceal himself, he followed Minerva and watched. The skin at the back of his neck prickled. His wiped his damp palms on his pants. Ever since Minerva had entered the tomb, he had been uneasy. The strangers in camp and the magic, for he could call it nothing less, that he had witnessed only served to make him aware that things were not as they should be. He had to stay alert.

Inwardly, Minerva tensed but her outward demeanor showed only a guarded expression. Someone familiar stepped out of the meal tent. With a large measure of relief, she called out. "Piers!"

With her face tinged pink by exertion and her face alive and animated, Minerva took his breath away. Piers stretched his arms out, open wide. "Minerva! I'm back!"

She stopped just out of his reach ignoring his unspoken invitation. Her words came in a nearly incomprehensible rush. "Site Four, the tomb ... not what we expected."

Piers took another step towards her and leaned in to kiss her but Minerva turned her face at the last moment. His lips grazed her cheek.

Minerva took several deep breaths. "You came just in time ... need your help."

"Don't I get a proper kiss, eh?"

Minerva removed her helmet. "Please, Piers, not now. We'll talk later ... about ... about us."

Piers kept his expression neutral but inside he simmered with a mixture of emotions - anger and disappointment made more volatile by a tinge of thwarted lust. A part of him had insisted all along that Minerva was simply infatuated with Dumbledore. Hearing the finality in her voice, he knew better. But he would be damned if he stepped aside like some docile dog. He closed the distance between them embracing her gently. "I've missed you so much."

Minerva stood stiffly in his arms. She touched her cheek to his. "I'm glad you're back."

Piers rubbed her arms up and down. "So am I. I'm not leaving you again."

"Listen to me, we have a serious situation at Site Four and I need your -"

Piers continued on. His arms tightened around her waist. "Any more time with that camel and I think I would have had to propose to it."

Minerva swallowed hard. Gently but firmly, she extricated herself from his person. "Piers, I don't know how to make things right again. I'm sorry."

Piers wanted to crush her to him, to scream his rage, yet he held back. _She has to say the words. I will not accept anything else._ He leveled his tone letting warmth lace his words. "Did something happen while I was gone? You can tell me anything, you know you can. You always have."

Minerva cupped his face in her hands. "You are a wonderful man and ... and I did want to make a life with you. Believe that please."

Piers' fist clenched by his side. "What are you saying, Minerva?"

"We have .. are ... the best of friends but not ... not more than that I'm afraid." Minerva paused. Sometimes one had to be cruel to be kind. "We have always been honest with each other. Our marriage would be based on a lie, Piers. I care too much for you to do that to you, to us."

Piers tilted her chin up "Why? What changed? Did I do something, say something wrong?"

"I can't marry you, Piers. I can't live a lie. You would be settling for a lie."

"It's HIM, isn't it! What did that old - "

Minerva sensed Piers was teetering on the edge. Admitting to anything concerning Albus would push him over. The less Albus was mentioned the better. Minerva kept her voice soft but firm, no nonsense. "I'm breaking our engagement, Piers. Please accept that and let's move on as friends.”

"I ... I want to know why. Why, Minerva, I deserve to know why."

Khalil could not hear their voices clearly but he could easily tell that the two people under his observation were not having an easy conversation. Piers and Minerva stood apart as fighters facing each other not as lovers in the midst of a reconciliation. Minerva belonged to Albus and Albus was his friend, he thought. Since Albus was not there, Khalil vowed to protect Minerva any way he could. He could hear the rest of the team approaching.

"I care about you. I will always remember our relationship with ... with great fondness." Minerva stepped away another step. She knew Piers' temper well. It exploded but calmed down quickly. She could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. She had to make him see reason. "You will make a fine husband for another woman some day. You'll have a wonderful family and -"

"No, Minerva, you do not ... you cannot discard me as casually as you would a shirt or a piece of furniture." Piers' tone was hard. He advanced towards her. His body was tense. "Why? I just want to know why! Say the words, Minerva. Tell me you don't love me anymore. Say it!"

Minerva was about to answer when Khalil came running by. The young boy kept his eyes downcast. "The others are almost here. Do you want to meet in the meal tent, Miss Minerva? Have refreshments?”

"Yes, the others. Please see to refreshments. Thank you, Khalil." Minerva smoothed down her hair.

Piers swallowed past the hard lump in his his heart. The conviction burned that Dumbledore, and only Dumbledore was to blame. He had a decision to make. "It seems your mind is made up."

"It is. I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry." Minerva replied. "Could we put our personal situation aside, please. We can talk about us later. For now, I need your help on something. You see we found something at the site. I haven't told everyone yet and I plan to now."

Piers’ rage was palpable. Her attempts at distracting him were futile. Minerva's attention shifted to a stranger stepping out of the meal tent..

"Dr. McGonagall, a pleasure. Eoan Griffith. I work with Professor Hammadi."

Minerva shook his hand. Griffith’s kind open features set her at ease quickly. She was grateful for his timely arrival. She hoped Piers would soon calm himself. "From the Institute, of course."

The rest of the team began to arrive one or two at a time. Khalil had apparently and quite efficiently spread the word. The team filed past the three standing by the tent entrance. Piers nodded as his return was acknowledge by the others.

"I am glad to see the camp wasn't abandoned. Please forgive our unannounced arrival. Our trip was done on the spur of the moment,” said Griffith.

"Our?" Minerva asked.

"Professor Hammadi, myself and two drivers. Professor Hammadi is very interested in your progress."

Minerva caught Piers' look. Griffith was a muggle. How could they discuss matters if he were about?

“We’ve just come from the site. Perhaps, after our meal, I can describe our progress to you and Professor Hammadi,” said Minerva.

"So, you’ve found something?" Griffith probed. "Professor Hammadi, was convinced that you would."

"The site is promising and -"

"Piers indicated that evidence of a tomb was found before he left here. Have you found the entrance?"

Minerva had more important things to attend to than play host to yet another bureaucrat. Her team had to know what she knew. She eyed Piers hoping he would get her silent plea. "We are in the middle of ... of excavating and -"

Her plea was answered. Piers spied Khalil standing behind Minerva. "Khalil."

"Yes, Mr. Rampal?"

“This is Khalil Hamdi. Khalil, meet Mr. Griffith, a very important visitor." Piers patted the boy on the shoulder while smiling at Griffith. "Khalil is a very bright boy. While Minerva has her meal, Khalil can describe to you the kind of work we've done. I've been gone so long. I'm sure Khalil knows more than I do. He's very observant."

"That would be fine. Please, Dr. McGonagall, rest and enjoy your meal. Professor Hammadi and I will await your convenience." Griffith grinned at the boy.

Minerva nodded encouragingly to Khalil. "When you're done, you can come see me. I may have a job for you.”

Khalil looked from Minerva to Piers and back to Minerva. His instincts told him to not let Minerva out of his sight but he could not disobey a direct order. He followed Griffith to the tent where Professor Hammadi lay resting.

"Minerva, the drivers are inside sleeping. A sleep spell should keep them sleeping." Piers turned away and began to walk away.

"Piers, aren't you joining us to discuss -"

"In a moment. I need to get something from my tent. I'll be there shortly." Piers looked back at her long and intently. "Minerva, I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Our hearts don't always listen to our minds."

"I suppose not." Piers walked off.

Minerva bit her lip. She wiped a lone tear away before entering the tent.

The team settled themselves on the long tables of the meal tent. Claude made copies of the parchment for the others. Minerva, head cradled in her hands, gathered her thoughts. Piers came in and sat down next to her. His left hand rubbed her neck just the way she liked it rubbed. She stretched and let him continue.

She whispered for his hearing alone. "Thank you, Piers, for understanding."

Piers kneaded the kinks out of her neck. He bent close to her ears. "We were friends before we were lovers. I only want you to be happy."

Minerva closed her eyes and relaxed. Piers other hand drifted over the lip of Minerva's glass of juice. If the juice bubbled for a few seconds no one noticed. If it hissed for a time, no one heard.

After a few minutes, Minerva rose. She took a long drink of juice before addressing the group. "The translation on that parchment is verified and correct. It is a warning from a high priest of Thoth, a true wizard, to other wizards. Abraxos' spirit could not be vanquished to the afterlife. It was too full of hate and spite. The spirit was bound to an ibis statue in the secret chamber. I found the chamber at the end of the tunnel."

Minerva cleared her throat. "I saw it there, the statue. It was made of stone in the shape of an ibis. Two rubies formed its eyes. The hieroglyphs in that room corroborate everything on that scroll. Before he was stopped, Abraxos murdered more than two dozen wizards. Some he believed to have been responsible for his wife's death and others because they tried to stop him. Because his soul was too malevolent to find eternal rest, the only course open to them was to do what they did."

Minerva cleared her throat for the second time. Piers held up her glass. She smiled and took another refreshing drink. "As soon as I deciphered the hieroglyphs I left."

"Do you believe Abraxos' spirit is still there?" Claude asked. "After all this time?"

"I don't know. It sounds unlikely give how much time has passed. I will say that the sense of another presence in that room was very strong."

"Spiritual resonance. The more powerful the wizard or witch the more potent their essence is. It has been several thousand years. If his resonance is still there, Abraxos must have been a powerful wizard."

Minerva emptied the glass. Piers obligingly filled it up again for her. "All we need is in the main tombs. There is no reason to venture into the lower chamber. I propose that we seal the lower chamber first thing tomorrow. We should prevent anyone else from entering that chamber and put another more emphatic warning just in case."

"Can the passageway accommodate us, Minerva?" Claude asked.

Minerva laughed. "You're going to have do some belly crawling but, yes, you can all fit through. Give me some parchment. I need to draw a map of the sub corridors."

Down the table, Claude held out a parchment. Minerva rose a few inches off her seat, hand outstretched. A wave of dizziness made her sway slightly.

Piers noticed immediately. He laid a hand on the small of her back. "Minerva, this can wait until morning."

"I need to map ... map the corridors and ..." Minerva's voice trailed to silence. Her vision was blurry and her head began to ache. One hand gripped Piers arm for support.

Claude looked up from studying the original parchment. "The sooner we seal it, the better. We should do it tonight."

Minerva rubbed her temples. "Claude's right," She could not continue as pain shot upwards from her back to her head and ricocheted back again. Her body sagged.

"Minerva? Are you all right?" Piers asked.

"Headache, my head ..." Minerva breathed out slowly. "...feels like its on fire."

"Working yourself too hard again. I should not have left you at such a critical time."

Minerva's voice was strained. “You had to go."

"Lean on me," Piers adjusted Minerva's head as onto his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her face was pale. "Claude, return to the tomb and put a ward around the entrance permitting only those of wizards blood to enter. In the morning, one of you take me down and show me what you've found. We're going to need everyone at full strength to seal that tomb. Minerva is obviously exhausted. Let's give her a day or two to rest up." He looked at the tired group. Sincere concern shone from his eyes. "In fact, you all look in need of rest. Whatever is down there has lasted all this time, it can wait a few more days. Go on, get some rest."

The other wizards nodded. Claude and another wizard left to place the ward. Piers waited until the tent cleared before drawing Minerva fully into his arms. He carried her out.

He laid her gently on her bed. As he loosened her hair, she stirred uneasily at his intimate touch. Her eyes remained closed. "I just want to make you happy, Minerva. We will be happy, you'll see."

His hands drifted down to the buttons on her shirt. He began to undo the buttons. "I've missed you, Minerva. We have the rest of our lives to look forward to starting right now."

* * *

Many miles away from Abu Sindel, Albus Dumbledore rode happily atop his camel. The shorter route was indeed short. In less than a day he would be in Luxor. He meant to look up his old friend Abdul Ramallah and make sure that Khalil's future education was in good hands.

He hummed a tune under his breath. Once he got back to Hogwarts he could begin preparing for Minerva's arrival. There was a room in Gryffindor tower that had a lovely view of the back gardens. Minerva would love that room. He was sure of it.

He smiled. He couldn't seem to help himself. Their future lay before them and he was a happy man.


	17. The Choice of One

Her body writhed in sheets drenched by her own perspiration. Her eyes, shut tight in denial of reality, leaked tears of frustration and outrage. Her skin felt seared by probing touches on her breasts and below. Her nails raked across flesh not in pleasure but in anger. Her teeth bit down drawing blood from lips forced upon her own.

"Why do you fight me?" Hands, strong and ruthless, gripped her shoulders. "Has he touched you? Has he?"

A sharp pain across her jaw brought tears to her eyes forcing them open. Piers loomed above her body. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist. His pants were unbuckled but not entirely undone. "Stop this, Piers, please ..."

Piers climbed off her and the bed. He stared down at her. He chuckled. "Oh, I intend to, Minerva. I will stop this ... this infatuation where it stands."

Minerva drew her blanket to cover herself. Her hand rubbed her forehead. The pain of her body had no measure against the fiery ache in her head. "I ... I don't love you. Please understand."

"You loved me before and you will again.”

"I can't change the way I feel. I'm sorry it had to happen like this but I love Albus and -" She could not continue as a sharp pain blazed across her consciousness.

Her anguished cry would have melted any man's heart but it only made Piers happier. It was proof that the Forgesi Deziro potion was doing its work. "As I said, you will love me again. I have no doubt about that at all."

Minerva rocked sideways on the bed. Piers behavior was unnerving and puzzling. She glanced upwards to study him. Even through the haze of pain, his smile chilled her blood. Her voice whispered "What ... what have you done?"

"I always tell people how bright you are. As usual, I am proven right." Piers drew up a chair and sat down on it facing her.

"This pain is not ... not natural." Minerva breathed in and out steadily. The pain intensified when she was agitated and seemed to subside when she was calm. "What have you done to me? Poison, a curse, what?”

"I did what I had to do to bring you back to your own mind. I'm sure Dumbledore put some kind of spell on you."

Minerva shrieked. "He's honorable, gentle, loves ..." This time the pain was so great that Minerva's body shuddered convulsively. All sensation was centered in her head.

Piers watched fascinated as Minerva curled herself into a fetal ball whimpering and gasping as she fought through the pain.

"Have you not realized yet what triggers the pain, Minerva?" Piers pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "Keep that that old goat in your thoughts. See what happens.“

Minerva steadied herself and thought about Albus and her together. A spike of pain lanced through her head jerking her head back. She brought to mind Albus' face. There was another stab of pain but not as acute as before.

"Your feelings for him cause the pain. Judging from your behavior, you feel strongly about him."

"Why?" Minerva asked through gritted teeth.

Piers was slow to answer. When he did his voice was low, wistful. "Because he dared to take my future from me."

"We have no future Piers especially after this."

Piers was undeterred. "We'll get married and bound together as man and wife. I'll use part of your inheritance to rebuild my family's fortunes. And when I have done that, we can do anything we want. Minerva, you love to travel. We'll travel the world, you and I, in luxury fit for royalty."

"Greed drives your expectations." Minerva buried her head in her folded arms. "What a fool."

Piers stroked her hair as one would a beloved pet. "I admit your fortune was the lure at first, but, Minerva, you discount your own charms. I fell in love with you as I came to know you. I could hardly help it."

Minerva rolled away from him as far away as the bed would permit her to.

"I do love you, Minerva. I have never been unfaithful. I have supported you in all that you have wanted to do. The day you accepted my proposal was the happiest day of my life."

"You love the idea of possessing me like some trophy on display."

"And Dumbledore is above that? Did he not come here for the express purpose of recruiting you before anyone else does, like some prize. He is no different than me." Piers stood up and began to pace. "What can he give you but a drafty school in the middle of the wilderness and the promise of toiling in obscurity for the rest of your life? Is a life forever in his shadow, the life you deserve?"

Minerva closed her eyes.

"You are a forceful brilliant woman. You deserve to be showered with accolades and rewards for your accomplishments. You would be wasted teaching willful students who will forget you one hour after they graduate. I want only what is good for you, Minerva. Can’t you see that?"

"You want to take me and mold me into what you want, Piers. You always have. I see that now."

"I simply want you to reach your true potential. I will be there to guide you and -"

"Piers, that is the difference between you two." Minerva let out a long breath. "You give me guidelines. Albus gives me choices." Her back stiffened as another tendril of pain whipped across her mind. "He will allow me anything. You will only allow me what you feel I should have." Minerva clenched her fists fighting the pain so she could continue. "I choose to have ... have choices. Albus." Minerva bowed her head over her pillow. She screamed into her pillow as her mind reeled from pain.

Piers looked at her shuddering form. He began to button his shirt. "I gave you a potion called Forgesi Deziro. Its name describes its effects well - to force forgetfulness of the heart's desire. The harder you fight its effects, the more pain it will cause, the longer your ordeal will last. It will not wear off until you've forgotten your feelings for him."

"Albus ... Albus expects nothing from me." Minerva's breathing was rapid and shallow. "Demands nothing."

"You are a stubborn woman but even you must bow sometime. I didn't expect you to accept things so easily." He checked his appearance in her mirror.

Her voice was strained. "Never."

"You will recall him only as an acquaintance, nothing more. You and I will rebuild our relationship and marry." Piers cast a series of quick spells. "I've warded the tent to keep you in. I have put a silencing spell so you may scream as you like."

"Get out!"

"I will see to our guests, shall I? They must have grown tired of that chatterbox boy by now." Piers paused by the door. "I don't blame you, Minerva. It's Dumbledore's fault, all of it. He forced me to do this. You must realize that."

Minerva's defiant yell, hinting of anger and hurt, was his answer.

* * *

The following morning after Piers left camp with the rest of the team, Khalil crept into Minerva's tent. He had to make sure Miss Minerva was all right. Mr. Rampal had informed everyone late yesterday that Miss Minerva was ill and did not want to be disturbed. Khalil knew how tired she had been so he hadn't thought to see her last night. Today was different. Miss Minerva had not come for breakfast. Mr. Rampal had been most insistent that no one bother Miss Minerva. Khalil did not like his tone and, like any good merchant, he could plainly tell Mr. Rampal was hiding something.

He tread lightly inside. He carried a small plate of bread and cheese and a glass of juice with him. Minerva lay unmoving on her cot. Pillows lay on the floor. Her blanket lay bunched at her side. Khalil touched her hand gently. Minerva flinched and turned to face him. She was haggard and her eyes were dull, lifeless. Khalil was shocked. "Miss Minerva?"

Minerva looked around the tent. They were alone. "Help me sit up."

Khalil propped her up with pillows. He held the glass of juice to her lips. Minerva drank greedily.

"A doctor must see you, Miss Minerva." He put the plate of food in front of her.

Minerva managed a small smile. "It's not that kind of sickness, Khalil."

"Mr. Rampal said you were tired. Are you tired?"

Between bites of bread and cheese, Minerva explained further. "Fighting the sickness is tiresome."

"Does Mr. Claude have medicines to help you?"

"It has only one cure I'm afraid." Minerva finished her juice. "I have no choice really."

"Would you like another glass? I will go and -"

"No, Khalil, I need you to stay here." Though her voice was faint, Minerva's urgency was evident. "I cannot ... you must do so for me. I need you to remember Albus."

"I will always remember Albus and his great kindness."

Minerva shook her head. "Khalil, you saw us. You know I love Albus. You know our plans."

"You and he will live in ... in Og-warts you said."

"That may not be," Minerva motioned him closer to her. "Khalil, I will forget Albus and our plans. I cannot explain why but I will."

"Should I not send word to him that you are -"

"No. I must deal with this sickness now. You've given me the idea, my own cure, you might say. In my satchel, there," Minerva pointed to a large bag on the floor. "My wand, get it for me."

Khalil retrieved the wand quickly. Minerva was so weak that she could barely grasp her wand. Khalil wrapped his own hands around it, helping her to lift it and point it towards his chest Strangely enough, Khalil did not find the wand unusual. Curious, yes, surprising, no.

The next words that Minerva uttered sounded nothing more than gibberish to him but after she finished the hairs on the back of his neck rose. A comforting warmth swept over him. For an instant, he experienced the purest sensations - bubbling joy and deepest contentment.

She asked him, "Do you promise to keep this secret - to remember my love when I cannot, will not. To reveal to no one but Albus the secret you keep or what you have seen or heard. Do you promise to be bound by this?"

Khalil's eyes were wide and solemn. "Yes. I will remember. I promise." As soon as the last syllable was out of his mouth, Minerva's wand emitted a bright red spark. The spark glowed brighter and brighter floating upwards. It hovered for a few seconds at level with his eyes. It moved towards him and caressed his forehead. The glowing orb flashed once before dissolving into smaller particles that faded into nothingness.

Khalil blinked away the red spots dancing in his sight. He looked back at Minerva. She had grown paler.The hand encompassed in his own was limp and cold.

As if she were exerting immense effort to speak at all, her words were halting and whisper-soft. "As long as you ... keep my secret ... nothing can touch my heart. No one. You must ... must ..."

"What must I do, Miss Minerva?"

"Survive. Live." Minerva pulled her hand from his. "Keep my wand. Hide it. And ... something else." Minerva's right hand felt along the side of her mattress. In a seam cut into the mattress, she pulled out a well worn piece of paper. She held it out to him. He stretched his palm out to take it. Minerva, with sudden fierceness, placed the note in his hand and folded his fingers around it. "Your gift to Albus ... one day ... give him this and my wand. Tell him your ... your promise to me ... what I did."

Khalil nearly recoiled at her chilly touch. "I might never see him again."

Minerva let his hand go. "You will ... someday. Albus he ..." Minerva winced. "... he won't forget."

Khalil found himself cheered by her words. He tucked the wand and the note in a side pocket. "You are very sick, Miss Minerva. Do you want juice or food?"

"Just the mirror. Move it closer to me." Minerva nestled into her bed.

Khalil moved her small desk aside to make room for the mirror beside her bed. Thinking that perhaps she wanted to brush her hair, he put her brush on her bed. "What else?"

A faint smile came to her dry lips. "I have what I choose to have."

"I will bring mid-meal, Miss Minerva."

"Thank you, Khalil. One more thing ..."

"Yes?"

"Do not ... do not give Piers reason to harm you. He has a wand and a bad temper.”

Khalil's hand patted his pocket. "I will not forget." With those words Khalil secured the tent flap leaving her with only her thoughts for company.

Minerva's fingertips barely grazed the mirror's frame. Her lips formed the two words that she would not say out loud. The image of Albus when it appeared seemed only half formed; one side in darkness and the other other outlined in dim candlelight. Her Albus smiled at her. He held his hand out to her, welcoming and needing. With the last of her ebbing will, she placed her hand over his. The touch lasted barely a minute before weakness overtook her and her hand slid downward to rest beside her.

With eyes misted with tears and an inner spirit, battered yet steadfastly defiant, she gazed at the image of her heart, now more shadow than form. She did not attempt to remember their time together for that only brought pain. She did not try to recall the rough glide of his beard against her skin or the tenderness of his voice against her ear for that way led to despair. Time ticked on in seconds and minutes and with their passing her love grew more indistinct, fading before her very eyes.

With dignity and all the love she possessed, Minerva bade her heart farewell.


	18. Open Hand, Iron Fist

Where once stood a neat modest house only charred remnants remained. Local authorities swarmed over the site. The curious gathered in small groups discussing the matter among themselves. Albus Dumbledore, in local garb, stood with another man eyeing the rubble and speaking in low tones.

"I cannot believe Abdul would be so careless as to leave a fire unattended," Dumbledore said.

"And in daylight," commented Reza Shamoon. He was a man of late years and slight of build but his bearing was authoritative and confident. He served as the head functionary of the city's Guild of Masters, the most prestigious in the Middle East.

"This is not right. They could not have stayed inside and let the fire burn on. It's not logical. And there is the scent of petrol. The place reeks of it."

"The police say a petrol tank must have exploded." Reza snorted. "One of us using a ... a vehicle? Ridiculous. That is not all that is suspicious, Albus. Abdul missed our guild meeting three days ago. Concerned, I visited him. Abdul intimated that he was brewing something unique and very important. I expected him to tell me what it was but he did not. Neither he nor Hema would reveal anything."

"Secretive is not a word I would use lightly where Abdul is concerned. He must have had a good reason."

Reza sighed. "I have asked the other masters. They all confirm that Abdul has not been seen much. What ... what activity could have consumed him so? I know of no extraordinary research assigned by the Guild, beyond the normal work, of course."

Dumbledore stroked his beard lost in thought. He had come to visit Abdul to discuss Khalil's future in more detail. The wizarding schools of Luxor were very competitive and he so wanted Khalil to have the right sponsor and mentor. That was no longer a possibility. "Have you been able to investigate further?"

"A few of us were able to sift through the rubble, what there is of it, before the authorities arrived. The fire was thorough. Their remains are ash. Why did they not apparate? What was happening to trap them inside? Too many questions. We were able to salvage a few things but nothing that tells us anything about what happened." Reza said.

"What kinds of things?"

Reza led Albus to his home on the next street. The two men sat down in small parlor. While Albus refreshed himself with a cool glass of juice, Reza brought out several items from a drawer and laid them down on the table in front of Albus. Arrayed were a half melted vial stained yellow, a mortar and pestle and, strangely, a small wooden box the size of a book.

"The vial stain is from liquid amber. The mortar and pestle is clean and has a protection smell about. Unusual. I believe it was protected as a preliminary step to being used. The box is intact and the protection is very strong. We have not been able to open it." Reza pointed to the mahogany box inlaid with intricate, geometric patterns.

Albus immediately recognized the box and picked it up. "Ha! I gave this to Abdul on his wedding day. A puzzle box. I said that once he was married he would have no more secrets from Hema. So, if he had secrets he had best put them in here. It will open only for the recipient and the giver. Let me see if I remember the steps correctly." Albus' deftly pressed and pushed two hidden panels in the box. The box expanded and a side panel opened wide. Peering inside, the two men found a worn journal such as would be used by a master to record his notes, some gemstones and some folded pieces of paper.

Reza took out the master's journal and began to skim through the pages. Albus pulled out the folded papers. They were letters and what looked like a charm written on rough paper. He began to read. Dumbledore's own eyes widened in shock as he read each damning word for a second time.

_Abdul,_

_I hope this finds you well and prosperous. Time is critical and so I will make this brief._

_Remember, two years ago when Minerva and I visited you and Hema? Over dinner we talked of ancient potions and their uses. There was one you mentioned that could make one forget their heart's desire. I do not know the exact name but I clearly remember what it was supposed to do._

_As you are the finest potions master in Egypt, I am commissioning you to make this potion for me. I am prepared to pay whatever price you specify. I cannot say more until I see you in person. Only know that I make this request with the best, most loving of intentions._

_Inform me today of your decision,_

_Piers_

 

Beside him, Reza exclaimed "By Allah! Not the Forgesi Deziro!"

Albus sat senses blind to his surroundings lost to the awareness of the very act of breathing. He was immersed in his mind's eye remembering his last glimpse of Minerva as he left the camp. His fist spasmed recalling the comfort of her touch on his arm as they posed for pictures. Little things flooded his mind - her delightful laugh, the concentration on her face when she studied the tomb slab, their first kiss in his tent, the maddening heat of their joining and there was too much to remember. Slowly, he became aware of another presence marring his memories - a man's laughing face — Piers's face.

* * *

True magic carpets were extremely rare. They were handed down from generation to generation with great reverence. Reza's family had such a carpet. It was stretched high above the parlor when not in use. When it was used, only for the greatest of reasons, it flew straight and true and, best of all, it surpassed the very wind for speed.

"There are times I feel quite fortunate to be descended from a long line of viziers. There is nothing more relaxing than being away from the noise of the city," Reza pondered reclined against several stuffed pillows and puffing on his smoking pipe. The man opposite him did not share in Reza's decadence or relaxation. Reza looked at his friend. They had known each other a long time yet Reza had never seen Albus so tightly wound as if one touch could send the powerful wizard springing up into action. And not good action, he thought. "Albus, try to rest. Drink some water and hydrate. We have a few more hours yet."

"I cannot." Albus flexed his back and arms. He needed to pace but on a magic carpet whistling above the desert and punching through the clouds that was not a feasible action. He sipped water and nibbled on some cheese to please his friend but his mind remained on Minerva and the information gleaned from Abdul's journal. " Tell me again of the steps necessary to brew the potion."

"Albus, I have done so four times already."

"There must be an antidote ... a deterrent. Perhaps, the key is in the making of it."

"Abdul is respected not only for his power and knowledge but the meticulous method he employs in potion making. If he set out to make the Forgesi Deziro, which is what he seems to have done, then it is a potent one. If Minerva ingests it, any resistance will be futile. I'm sorry, Albus."

"But it's not permanent you said."

"Unless the charm is invoked while the drinker is in the act of ingestion." Reza blew a perfect smoke ring before continuing. "The charm was written on one of the pieces of paper. To me that shows preparedness. Abdul must surely have given the potion to Piers and taught him the charm."

"And paid dearly for it."

"You are ready to condemn a man with insufficient proof. That is not like you."

I do not want to believe but I know what I know. Piers lied. He was supposed to have been in Cairo yet he was in Luxor the entire time. He contracted Abdul to make the potion before he left camp.” Albus slammed his glass on to the tray. "I need no other proof of premeditation."

"He may have done so and all proof is positive so far. However, that shows only intent not action."

"If he has harmed Minerva, I will -"

"You will do nothing." Reza sat up.

"But a criminal act is -"

"Albus, we have no proof that a criminal act has been committed. We do not even have a case of poisoning."

Albus exploded. "It is criminal to induce another person to drink an ... an illegal substance!"

"The Forgesi Deziro is not illegal here but merely restricted. A master receives a specific recognition that allows them to receive commissions for it. Anyone can commission it and the master is under stricture to express to the purchaser its exact nature and consequences. It is only illegal if it was brewed by someone without recognition."

Albus was dumbfounded.

"This is not England, my friend, no matter the colonialist mentality." Reza sipped his drink. "Here, the Forgesi Deziro is sometimes used to, shall we say, coax a reluctant woman to fulfill her obligations. If a dutiful father has arranged a good and proper match for her, one that will be of benefit to her, and she proves unwilling, then the father has the right to give her the potion."

"That is appalling! That potion borders on the Dark Arts."

Reza sighed. "Your sensibilities are so English despite the years of tutelage under Flamel. I would think you of all men would have a more worldly view. To us, magic is magic. It is the end result of that magic that is good or evil."

"You are condoning the forced manipulation of another being."

"Laws should not strip a person of free will or volition in matters personal to them or their family. That is what we believe. A man's conscience shall bear his guilt.

"If you will not deal with him, then I will."

"I did not say that I would do nothing but first a crime must be proven then action will be taken. I still cannot believe that he would do such a thing especially with Minerva. They seemed quite devoted to each other."

"Do you think that anyone can sway Minerva's mind once it is set? She will break off with him and he will use it. I know he will."

"We are making assumptions. I am not only head of my guild but a magistrate of Egypt. I cannot and will not make assumptions. I will verify the crime and pass judgment."

"And if I do not like the judgment?"

"Albus, surely you do not need great imagination to think of, what was that word you used, yes, appalling, to think of what appalling punishments I could employ,” said Reza. “As I said, this is Egypt. We have no concept of parole. Any punishment I mete out will be final.“

* * *

The camp came into view. Squinting against the bright afternoon sun, Albus craned his neck looking for Minerva. He did not see her. However, he did see the other wizards of the team coming out of the meal tent. Before the carpet had touched the sands, Albus was off and running towards the first person he saw.

"Claude, where ... where is Minerva? I must speak with her."

"She's inside, Albus."

Without another word, Albus rushed past Claude. Distress and fury mixed to make his blood pound through his veins as a stormy river descending a steep ravine. _She has to be all right. She has to be._

Inside he saw her alive and unharmed. He swallowed hard. As she turned and he glimpsed her profile he nearly went limp from sheer relief. His starved senses drank her image in to the full.

Minerva rose from the bench and approached him smiling. He returned her smile and held out his hand, waiting, calling out to her, "Minerva, you’re all right?”

As she got closer, he searched her face, her eyes, for that which had made their parting bearable - signs of love and longing.

"Did Headmaster Dippet send you back so you may try harder to convince me?"

"No. Not that. Is something wrong, Minerva?"

Minerva’s face was calm. There were no signs of distress. "I'm fine as you can see. Am I supposed to be ill?"

Studying her face, he saw no special spark of delight in her eyes. Her voice though congenial did not bear the warming lilt that he had found fascinating. She had not taken his hand. She had not said his name. _He has done it and I am too late._

Fueled by Minerva's indifference and his own sense of acute failure, a deadening numbness began to creep along his veins and sinews sapping his will and strength.

"I thought we ... that I had forgotten something," Albus stammered. "Something vital. Don't you -"

Minerva saw only his state of dishevelment and remarked, "You are exhausted, headmaster." As one would lead a child, Minerva led Albus to one of the trestle tables where food and juice still lay from luncheon. "Sit. A good meal and rest is what you need."

Albus murmured something positive but incoherent.

"Piers, please see to the headmaster while I speak to Mr. Hamdi about accommodations."

"Summon Khalil to help his father." Piers replied from behind the table. "Stay here. I'm sure the headmaster would prefer your company."

Minerva shook her head. "Have you seen Khalil since he went off with Mr. Griffith and the Professor? Anyway, it will only take a few minutes."

"My companion will need ..." Albus began to say.

"I'll take care of it." With that Minerva left the two men alone.

Playing the gracious host, Piers poured Albus some juice and arranged some serving dishes in front of him. Albus' field of vision widened and he realized there was one other in the tent. Albus fixed his gaze on Piers then said deceptively casual, "I was visiting friends in Luxor. I believe you know them Abdul and Hema Ramallah.”

Piers returned Albus' gaze coolly. "I did."

_'I did' not I do. Damn him._ Albus clutched at Piers' conscious admission of guilt. "Were you so very desperate that you would do this to her?"

"She was mine. She remains mine."

"Love is nurtured in an open hand not imprisoned in a closed fist."

"An open hand invites wolves like you. You dazzled her, plying your charms upon her at every meal, every encounter. What woman could resist?"

"Minerva knew her mind and her heart. Our magicks knew before we did,” Albus insisted. "Minerva is not so easily fooled. You do her a disservice to think so. She never wanted to hurt you. Neither did I"

"For three years I have loved her, protected her and -"

Albus rose towering over the seated man. Rationality was returning to his fevered mind. The numbness that had enfolded his form and mind began to thaw. "I have never known love to be so twisted."

"Is lusting after another man's woman more straightforward? I think not."

"What lies between Minerva and I concerns no one else."

Piers scoffed. "Of course, even her fiancé is excluded from any consideration."

"I should have stayed and waited for you. I should not have left her here alone. She trusted you to understand."

"Oh, I understand, better than you realize,” countered Piers.

Dumbledore lay both hands flat on the table. His magical energy flowed from his fingertips to the table. Food and cutlery began to vibrate and shake along the table. "You will answer for this. For all you have done.”

"By your hand, easily, but think on this - she cares nothing for you now. You've seen her reaction to you. You cannot so easily ingratiate your way back into her affections, can you?" Piers stood up then leaned into Dumbledore's personal space looking the furious wizard straight. His next words were smug, superior. "You hurt me, you hurt her. Stalemate."


	19. Survival Instinct

“Wretch! cried the Genie. Is it not enough that I have done everything for you, but you must command me to bring my master and hang him up in the midst of this dome? You and your wife and your palace deserve to be burnt to ashes, but that this request does not come from you, but from the brother of the African magician, whom you destroyed. He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman, whom he murdered. He it was who put that wish into your wife's head. Take care of yourself, for he means to kill you.' So saying, the genie disappeared.”

“Aladdin went back to the Princess, saying his head ached, and requesting that the holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it. But when the magician came near, Aladdin, seizing his dagger, pierced him to the heart. What have you done? cried the Princess. You have killed the holy woman! Not so, replied Aladdin, but a wicked magician. He told her of how she had been deceived.”

“After this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the Sultan when he died, and reigned for many years, leaving behind him a long line of kings. The end," Khalil closed the book gently. He took a long drink. Reading for so long made him very thirsty.

"What did you think of ... of the magician's brother in the end?" croaked Professor Hammadi propped on pillows while lying on a blanket shaded by two large umbrellas. "Was he right in ... in seeking vengeance against Aladdin ... for killing his brother?"

"I do not know."

“We have talked for a day and more." The professor breathed deeply and closed his eyes as one hiding great pain. "Speak, I know you have opinions, many of them."

"Yesterday Mr. Rampal told me that I must behave myself, not talk so much he said."

Hammadi's voice was strong but raspy. "Do not allow others to ... to subdue your natural ... curiosity, young one. Consider ... consider your gifts, special -" A series of coughs racked his body. Khalil helped him to sit up and held a canteen to his lips. He drank a few drops.

Khalil gently laid the professor back against the low pillows. He scrambled to his feet and scanned the horizon. "Mr. Griffith is late.” He looked at the sun and was troubled. "The sun is setting quickly. We cannot stay out here. Animals will be out hunting soon."

"I can ... need to reach the tomb."

"You cannot even stand." Khalil argued. He could not understand why Professor Hammadi was so insistent upon seeing the tomb with his own eyes. Mr. Griffith had done all he could to discourage him but to no avail. They had begun to walk but after an hour the Professor could go no further. Griffith had returned to camp to get help.

"Crawl then. How far ?"

"Not far. Maybe a little less than an hour at our pace."

"I cannot wait." The Professor shook his head violently. He muttered under his breath.

Khalil fashioned one of the tall umbrellas as a makeshift crutch for the old man. Khalil stayed on the other side of the old man. They began their first tentative steps towards the tomb.

The professor pleaded with the Other. _Khalil is only a boy. Wait for Eoan. He will serve you well._

_Khalil will make a powerful host. I need him._

Hammadi stumbled. _Just a boy ... a boy ... you must stop!_

_His power is pure, his body sturdy, his mind strong yet malleable. I will be again what I was._

The professor fell to the soft sand. _No! NO! I will go no further! This stops now. I will not allow you to use ..._

_I will go on! Reborn as I was meant to be!_

Knees collapsed utterly. Hammadi's arms flailed as if fending off some imaginary assailant. _My life is a small price to pay._

_Close I am to my power here. I need only your body now not your presence, fool! Your usefulness is at an end._

"Professor! Professor!" Khalil cradled the man in his arms.

The professor's body convulsed several times. Bits of blood dribbled out of the side of his mouth.

"What? Are you all right? We should just wait here until Mr. Griffith returns with help." Khalil swallowed his panic. He felt some relief when the professor seemed to calm.

Aged eyes fluttered twice. Khalil recoiled. The brown eyes were gone replaced by ones that shown as deeply red as fresh drawn blood.

"P-p-professor?"

"I am only one now." Abraxos pronounced. "Do not be afraid, young one. We go on."

As Khalil helped the man to his feet, he could sense a new strength in the tired man's limbs. Though his steps were slow, they did not fail as before. Abraxos leaned heavily on the umbrella crutch and urged Khalil to march ahead of him. "Distract our minds from our journey, young one. Tell me of yourself, what dreams do you have?"

Khalil's words came haltingly at first then gained speed and confidence. "I hope to go to the English school next term. There are scholarships. I mean to get one once I am there and earned it."

"So, the scholarship is based on merit, scores and such."

"No, based on need."

"Surely you qualify."

"There are others poorer than my family."

"Your family is very prosperous?"

"My father says we are comfortable, not rich."

"Your father is the cook. I did not realize that earned very much."

Khalil laughed. "My father is a merchant. Miss Minerva has a contract with my father. It was he who made arrangements for the tents, the supplies and equipment for the camp. And the workers, too."

"Then why stay on as a cook? Is that not beneath him?"

"We are looking after our investment, professor, so we must be around camp always. The men must be fed well so they can work and be happy. The equipment can be resold at much profit after the expedition is done."

"Ah, so your father is paid twice - once by the expedition and again when the items are sold out. Very wise and efficient." Abraxos thought for a moment then decided that he ought to begin winning the boy over. "I predict that someday, you will be a great man, Khalil, powerful, rich and -"

"And well-liked?"

"You wish to be popular?"

"Liked. I would not want bad things to be said about me."

"You care much for what is said?"

"I care that what is said is true, that is all. If people do not like you, they will say some falsehoods to your face and more falsehoods when you are not looking. I cannot be looking all the time."

Abraxos laughed. "Do you wish to be a merchant like your father?"

"I have brothers who will become merchants, good ones, professor. My father, he says, that I can be something else."

"And what is that to be?"

"I do not know yet. I must learn more then decide."

The professor nodded. He stopped and looked around. There was nothing but dirt, sand and a barely discernible trail that they followed carefully. His senses were getting sharper the closer they came to the tomb. Not much longer. “Khalil, tell me of your family, what are they like?"

The two figures walked on as the sun dipped ever lower. It would be night soon.

* * *

Albus and Reza shared the same tent. Reza had wisely intervened between Albus and Piers. It had been a near thing. Inside, they argued and discussed the matter.

"He admitted it! He outright gloated about it!" Albus paced the tent fuming.

"I need proof that Minerva was or is unwilling to be with him." Reza explained. "Fortunately, he has no any legal guardianship over Minerva such as being her husband. Give me proof, Albus. As for the murder of Abdul and Hema that is a separate matter. At least we have the letter in the puzzle box. Did Piers allude to that to you?"

"Not directly but I will make him confess and wring his -"

"Albus, be calm. Think. Killing Piers will not, I repeat not, end the effects of the potion upon Minerva."

"She'll hate me if I kill him." Albus admitted sadly. "She doesn't remember me ... us. She CANNOT remain with him. I will take her back with me by force if I have to."

"She seemed well enough. I do not see any outward marks of maltreatment. I see no significant change in her behavior either. I will speak with the others here and -"

"Wait! She DOES have a relative of sorts."

"Someone who has guardianship?"

"As near to that as there is," Albus sat in his chair quickly arranging parchment and pen on the desk. "Theodore Duval."

"The Theodore Duval? The diplomat and ambassador?"

"She considers him her uncle. He is now headmaster of Beauxbaton in France. He took over management of her trust when her grandmother died. Will he be good enough?"

"Yes, his testimony would bear great weight. Can he come here?"

"I will drag him here myself." Albus continued to write.

There was a great commotion outside. Both men rushed out. Men scurried around herding camels. Reza spotted Piers and Minerva issuing orders left and right.

"What is going on?" Reza asked.

"Professor Hammadi is stranded out there. Eoan just came in." Piers pointed to Griffith laid out on a stretcher. His hands and face were swollen.

Claude applied medicine to the cuts and stings. "Crawled in after getting lost for hours. He's covered in scorpion stings. He must have disturbed a nest."

"How badly is he hurt?"

"The anti-venom will help. He'll be sick for a few days."

"Who is Professor Hammadi?" Albus asked.

"From the Institute in Cairo. He granted as the firman to dig here." Minerva raised herself into the saddle. "Piers, I'll go ahead. If we find them, I'll shoot a flare."

Piers nodded cinching his own saddle. "Right. Take Hamdi and the team. I'll follow with some men and the litter."

Minerva wheeled her mount around and cantered off. The other wizards right behind her.

"What was the professor doing out there? I thought visitors were not allowed to wander on their own,” said Albus.

"They're NOT!" Piers replied hotly. "I run a secure and safe camp here."

Claude supplied the answer. "He wanted to see the tomb, Albus. I told him I would arrange proper transport after Minerva allowed us to go back inside but he was most insistent."

"Allowed?"

Piers snorted. "Minerva was disturbed by something inside. I investigated it earlier today. There's nothing dangerous there."

"You didn't see her face when she came out, Piers,” said Claude.

"Just the usual enter-at-your-peril curse, Claude, a little more elaborate than the normal ones we've found but nothing special. I discussed it with Minerva and she agreed with me."

"She called it a prison, Piers. The parchment we found bears it out." Claude insisted hotly. "We planned on going back and doing a better survey once she got back on her feet again then -"

"Minerva was ill?" Reza asked. "Recently?"

"Overwork. Exhaustion." Piers said quickly. "Claude, you know how hard she works. She's better now." Piers beckoned Claude to see to Griffith. Then he turned to Albus and Reza. "Wait here. I'm sure we'll find the professor and the boy before too long."

"Khalil ! The boy is out there by himself ?" Albus grabbed the reins of a camel from another man and rode off.

Reza looked inquiringly at Piers. "Boy?"

"A most annoying one but he has his uses." Piers mounted his camel. He eyed Reza who was also mounting a camel. "You don't have to go. Stay here and rest."

"Oh, I've had too many hours on a carpet I need to exercise." Reza led the way out of camp following Albus’ trail.

* * *

The inner crypt's walls were cold to the touch. In the dim torch light, everything was as he had left it. Abraxos gazed around in appreciation for his well constructed tomb.

Khalil finished lighting a second lantern and looked at the Professor's stomach. The red eyes made him uneasy and he avoided looking into them. "At least we have shelter here until they come for us. Is there something you are looking for, professor?"

"You could say that." Abraxos sat cross-legged on the floor. "Come here. Sit beside me."

Khalil picked a spot in front of the professor with a lantern in between. In the lantern light, the professor's eyes glinted like rubies. Were the professor a younger man, the eyes would have looked powerful. But in his now wrinkled worn face, the effect was disturbing.

"Remember, I said that you would be a great and powerful man?" Abraxos' voice was smooth and low, pitched to persuade and ease not to command.

Khalil nodded.

"I was a great and powerful man once, a very long time ago, and this," Abraxos extended his arms out. “This was built for me."

Khalil laughed loudly.

"Such a sceptic. But I enjoy a challenge." Abraxos smiled. "You like reading about Aladdin and the magical genie. Do you believe that there is such a thing as magical beings?"

Khalil remembered Minerva, what happened with her wand and her turning into a cat. That was magic, wasn't it? But her eyes weren't red, he argued. He could not mention Miss Minerva. That was a secret. He replied, "If they were written about, then they would be real, maybe a long, long time ago."

"Good boy. There were and are still those able to do magic. They can do wondrous, powerful things. Here, let me demonstrate." Abraxos closed his eyes. He raised his hand to chest level palms open.

Khalil felt a decided drop in temperature in the room. He heard a grinding noise, rock against rock, getting louder and closer. A solid shape arose out of the open crypt. It settled between them next to the lantern. It was a statue of an ibis of gold with eyes made of rubies. Khalil gaped at it.

"That is a treasure beyond compare wouldn't you say? This can be yours."

Khalil found his tongue. "How ... how did it ... it flew in the air. I saw it. How?"

"Magic, young one, magic." With trembling hands, Abraxos rubbed the statue fondly. "I can teach you to do that and more, much more, as much as you want. Would you like that?"

Khalil looked at the statue. The gold was pleasing but the eyes were not. They seemed to look right through him and, worse, they reminded him of the professor's eyes. "I might. What would it cost me?"

"A true merchant's son." Abraxos chuckled. "There is no cost in the sharing of knowledge. You are a bright boy and I know that you will learn quickly and master thoroughly."

Khalil thought carefully before replying, "What must I do?"

"I ask only that you trust me. You trust your teachers don't you?"

"I suppose I do."

"Now place one of your hands on the statue and -"

"No."

"No?"

"I ... I cannot trust you unless you trust me. For this knowledge is much and you said that you would share with me all that I wish. Partners share and partners trust. That is what my father says."

Abraxos scolded himself to be patient and not frighten the boy into excessive fear. It was fate that he had been given this boy at this time. With Khalil, Abraxos could truly be reborn again with hundreds of years ahead of him. But possessing a still-pure magical soul was more involved than a simple mortal. He had to tread carefully for his host body was failing. He had to move to another body soon. He was confident of success. It was only a matter of coaxing the boy's full cooperation out of him. "Your father is truly wise. Partners! Yes, that is what we will be. You have guided me to shelter, read to me and took care of me for all that you have my full trust, young one."

"That is different, Professor. That was survival. This is between us. I do not know you. What kind of person are you?“

"I am what you see before you - an old, old man. I can do you no harm. What can I do to gain your friendship and trust?"

Khalil was silent for a moment. "I have it. Let us pretend that I am Aladdin and you are the genie. You ... you will grant me three wishes."

"And you will trust me after I fulfill your wishes?"

"The genie proved his powers by granting the wishes. Aladdin gave the genie his freedom as a show of trust. So will I do. Do you agree and swear?" Khalil held out his hand.

"I agree and swear." Abraxos shook the offered hand.

Khalil shivered as their hands touched. His fingers and hands tingled but not in the pleasant way that had happened when Minerva had touched her wand to his chest. For a moment his hands felt like a hundred tiny nails were being gouged into his skin.

"I must warn you that I am not as powerful as a genie because I am so old." Abraxos coughed. He wiped the bloody spittle with his sleeve. _Agreement to cooperate is the first step. Good. Now he must surrender completely._ "What is your first wish, young one?"

Khalil walked around the crypt chamber picking up some loose rocks as small as his fist. He laid them out beside the status. "For my first wish, to prove your powers are great, I wish that you turn these rocks into ... into gold, solid real gold."

"Just these? Nothing else?"

"It is not good to be greedy, my father says. This is enough for my school and a new roof for our house."

Abraxos closed his eyes while holding a gnarled hand over the rocks. Perspiration beaded down his face as he concentrated. Were he not so tired, so near death, this task would have not proven so taxing. Khalil watched intently as each of the three stones turned into lumps of gold.

"There." A wave of dizziness overcame Abraxos. "Turning rock to gold is difficult for me but I have done as you wish."

Khalil hefted each rock experimentally. After pocketing the rocks, he studied the aged man. It was very obvious how sick he was. "I'm sorry, Professor. I will make my wishes simpler."

Abraxos breathed deeply and urged Khalil for the next wish.

"Something simple." Khalil muttered. "My second wish is ... is for you to answer any of my questions truthfully."

Too weary to think more upon such a wish. Abraxos waved his hand once. "And your last wish?"

"Wait, I must ask you a question to test my second wish."

"Very well, ask. A -" Abraxos coughed violently. "- question about science, perhaps?"

"Albus said that it is not possible for me to have a cake and eat it too."

"You wish for a cake? Very well."

"No, no. I don't want a cake." Khalil retrieved the golden stones. "All this is too ... too much in exchange for trust and friendship."

"I am an old, dying man. I want nothing from you."

Khalil was silent for a minute. "Answer my question - what do you want from me in exchange for all this?"

Abraxos ground his teeth trying not to open his mouth but the agreement compelled him to answer. "I want ... your will and body enslaved ... to me forever."

Abraxos made to grab him but Khalil scampered beyond his reach and ran. He ran through the tomb and out the entrance. He ran and ran never looking back once.

Abraxos, furious at being tricked, railed and cursed violently. Sudden pain arched through his chest. Blood dribbled down from his mouth. His mortal heart was beating its last pulses. He could feel his extremities becoming lifeless.

_I am eternal! I will live again!_

The body of Professor Hammadi twitched once then lay still. His chest did not rise for breath. His brown eyes, wide open, saw nothing. Blood dried brown and red on his clothes.

In the flickering lantern light, the ibis statue glowed golden and lustrous as on its first creation. If one looked closely one could see a strange thing - the ruby eyes shone green not red.

* * *

"Khalil! Where are you? Khalil!"

Khalil’s legs ached. His lungs were on fire. Insects feasted on his legs. Voices, he heard voices. He ran towards his father's voice. He saw camels galloping across the desert. "Papa! Here ... here! Papa!"

Mr. Hamdi gathered his son in his arms. "We were so worried."

"The Professor ... tomb ... possess -" Khalil stammered.

Astride her camel, Minerva shot a flare into the air. She motioned for the rest of the riders to head for the tomb.

Khalil wriggled out of his father's possessive grip. He grabbed at Minerva's leg. "No, Miss Minerva, no! Professor uses magic ... it felt bad, not like yours."

Minerva asked. "When did I use magic on you?"

"He is bad, Miss Minerva. Do not go. Please!"

"Who is bad, Khalil?" Albus pulled up next to Minerva.

Khalil exclaimed, “Albus! You came back just like Miss Minerva said.

"What are you talking about, Khalil?" asked Minerva. “I never said such a thing.”

"You said you would forget. You did.”

Albus looked at Khalil then Minerva then Khalil again. Albus slid off the camel, kneeled and held the boy by the shoulders. "Stay with your father, Khalil. We will talk later I promise you."

"Do not go there." Khalil pulled out a golden nugget. "Look, he turned this rock into gold and... and his eyes are red!"

As he examined the rock, Albus thought back to Minerva's remarks about Abraxos' tomb. He had a fairly good idea of what to expect. Albus lowered his voice. "I am not without experience in dealing with bad magicians, Khalil." Albus winked. "I am powerful, too."

The sounds of the other outriders approaching reached their ears. Reza and Piers came by.

"Where is Professor Hammadi?" Piers demanded.

Khalil shrank into Albus. One hand held onto Albus’ sleeve. "He is in the tomb, Mr. Rampal."

"You left him there alone?"

"No! I ... he ... tried to ... he is sick.”

Albus did not miss the change in Khalil's story. "Reza, I believe your expertise will serve us well. Khalil, tell Reza what Minerva told you.”

Khalil shot a glance at Piers. “I do not know.”

Albus put an arm about the boy. “It’s all right. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

“You can talk to the boy later. We must get to the Professor,” urged Piers. He urged his camel forward. He and Minerva headed for the tomb.

Reza dismounted. “Albus, go on. Stop them. No one must enter the tomb. Wait for me.” He looked down on Khalil. “Now, tell me quickly what you know.”

Albus did not spare a glance behind him as he galloped away. With each stride, he was catching up to Minerva and Piers. His mind was putting together bits of a puzzle - Minerva’s change, Khalil’s words about Minerva forgetting. One thing he was sure of. He was not leaving Egypt until Piers Rampal had been dealt with.


	20. Coming Home to Rest

The headmaster strode down the hallway looking left and right. Were it not for his age and the decorum of his office he would have been skipping. In passing, Armando saw Filius in the Great Hall arranging Christmas decorations.

"Filius, I'm looking for Albus, have you seen him?"

"Try the lake. He usually goes there to brood after classes."

"Thank you."

Filius called out sharply. "Armando, wait! A moment please."

Armando paused at the door and waited for the smaller, younger man to join him.

"I speak for the rest of the faculty in saying that we are all beginning to worry for Albus."

"You are not the only one."

"There must be something we can do. He shuns company. He carries on the most perfunctory conversation at mealtimes. And lately, the ladies have noticed that he's not paying as much attention to his appearance as before."

"I hadn't noticed that."

"Neither did I at first. He just seems so very tired and listless." Filius put a hand on the Headmaster's arm. "I know you don't like to interfere in our personal lives, Armando, but Albus hasn't been the same since his return from Egypt. Is there anything we can do for him?"

"It is not my story to tell, Filius, and as far as doing anything," Armando sighed, "I am hoping that my news will lift his spirits."

"Good news about Miss McGonagall?"

"How do you -"

"A simple deduction. He went there to recruit her. I am guessing his involvement became personal and ended but not in his favor. Have I the gist of it?"

"It was not the involvement but the aftermath that troubles him. He lost much ... honor in Egypt."

It was not difficult to spot the lone figure walking by the lakeside. Armando called out and Albus reversed direction to meet him halfway.

"You must have ice for blood, Albus," Armando commented.

"The air clears my head I find."

"I have some news that may be of interest." Armando began to walk towards the school. Albus had no choice but to follow suit keeping his eyes on the path. "I received a missive from Theodore."

Albus’ eyes narrowed. "Is Minerva all right?"

"Theodore requests that we reconsider her contract to teach here. She remains uneasy at Beauxbaton even after almost two months there. Theodore feels that a change is in order."

Albus gripped his friend and superior by both shoulders. "She's ... she's coming here, truly?"

"I have already sent my reply that we would be happy to have her." Dippet grinned. “I assume that you aprove.”

"When is she expected to start? Next term?"

Armando took a deep breath before replying. “She will be here next Monday, Albus."

Albus stood still absorbing the news. Suddenly his whole demeanor changed. His shoulders lost their drooping posture. He straightened as if he had a string tied to his spine and the string had been pulled taut. Albus turned towards the lake, raised his arms high and let fly a loud whoop of joy. As his voice echoed to the farthest side of the lake, he frowned and his face became drawn again. "Armando, is ... will she only be visiting? You said a change not ... not anything permanent."

"Theodore mentioned that he did not feel that Beauxbaton could offer Minerva the safety that Hogwarts could. I said that she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted and that the contract would cover from now until the end of term next year. Annual renewals can be arranged easily enough."

"That's better than ... it is not unheard of for a teacher to start midterm, is it?"

"It is not commonplace but our enrollment has doubled and a new assistant Transfiguration teacher will be appreciated." Armando clapped him on the back. "I hope that you will cease this slow death by brooding and neglect."

Albus looked sheepish. "Was I that obvious?"

"Only to those who have loved and lost,” Armando answered. "I want your word that you will accept what will be. I want nothing more than for your dreams to come true, Albus, but life does move on and so -”

Albus interrupted. His voice rang with utter conviction. "This dream is for me, not for Hogwarts, not for the Ministry, just for me. No one will take it away. Or convince me that it is hopeless. As long as she is here, nearby, that will be enough."

"And seeing her every day, will that not cause your distress to heighten?"

"On the contrary, it shall give my day purpose - to greet her with a smile at breakfast, exchange thoughts at lunch, perhaps even spar wits over dinner. It is more than I thought I would have with her when I left her in Theodore's care."

"She may never remember your time together."

"A little piece of our love still exists if in secret. She meant to have it so. She did not lose hope and neither will I."

"You are a far stronger man than I could ever be. Very well I shall desist harping on the matter for now."

Albus quickened his steps as they headed back to the castle. Armando, shorter by a head, had to double his pace to keep up.

"Three days does not give me much time but everything will be perfect." Albus rattled off a litany of tasks to do for him and the house elves from catching goose for fresh feathers for pillows to retrieving some antique wall tapestries to keep the chill away.

"Do you intend to get any sleep?"

"I'll grab an hour or two every day. Now, her suite will need to -"

"Suite?"

"Sitting room, small office for her library, bedroom, bathroom and maybe another bedroom or a solar so she can bask in sunlight on cold days. What do you think - solar or extra bedroom?"

Armando raised an eyebrow at the lavish set of quarters Albus had in mind to devise. "I think that it is not necessary to overwhelm the woman."

Albus continued prattling, "Do I have your permission to rearrange the fourth floor of Gryffindor tower? The one currently used for storage? It has the best views, at sunset especially."

"Would you stop if I refused your request?"

"No."

"By all means, continue with your refurbishment."

* * *

At Beauxbaton, Minerva folded the last of her cloaks into her trunk. Her door opened admitting in Theodore. His quick eyes took in the two trunks - one locked and the other open and full to bursting.

"I see you take up after your mother in the efficient packing department," said Theodore. "Just two trunks and a mirror."

Minerva laughed softly. "I've been traveling so much that I need very little." Her face became serious. "I had thought to settle down but I can't seem to. I should be happy for all the years I studied here. I don't know why I'm so restless."

"Shush! I won't hear of any regrets. There are too many old memories here on the continent for you. It will be good to start fresh at Hogwarts."

"But what of my research, all the data and, oh Merlin, the Rampals?"

Theodore snorted. "They can raise whatever fuss they so desire, Minerva, it will be to no avail. You and Piers were not married," Theodore mentally thanked fate and any gods listening at the time. “Thus, they have no claims whatsoever on you or yours."

"I just wish that I could make them feel better about Piers' death but I don't remember all the details."

"And how could you? You entered the tomb and into pandemonium. It is a miracle you survived at all." Theodore helped her lock the last trunk. "Give them time to grieve, Minerva. He was the only son left to them after the war. I can understand their position."

"Perhaps, I should hand over the research notes to them as they have requested and -"

"No, absolutely not!"

"Why not? The publication rights are not a fortune but it can be a steady income for them."

"Minerva, please, do not concern yourself over them, ever again. They are not as well off as they werebut they are hardly paupers. Any financial losses they have incurred are due entirely to their decisions and activities.” Theodore embraced her briefly. "Promise me, Minerva, that you will never grant them or their ilk access to your research into the Lingering Death. It's too important. The ramifications will be incredible."

"Oh, uncle, you don't believe the hearsay that the Rampals were in league with Grindelwald," scoffed Minerva. "Some small-minded, envious person started that rumor. There’s no proof at all.”

"Collaborators, surely."

"You will get in trouble with that line of thinking."

"Already have. Now, I will hear your promise from your own lips."

"I promise to not share or divulge knowledge of my research to the Rampals.”

“Or anyone else,” added Theodore.

“Not even Albus or the headmaster? I had thought to discuss the matter with Albus and, perhaps, their History of Magic professor.”

“I shall make exceptions for Albus and Armando. Please, be parsimonious with your knowledge of the Dark Arts.”

“You think it will be held against me?”

“Armando will welcome whatever you may offer. Albus certainly will, um, have no issues with your forays into the darker mysteries.”

“I hope not. I fully intend to continue my research.”

“As you should, my dear. Remember that not all you meet will have a conscience,” warned Theodore. “Imagine what an addition the Lingering Death would be to the Unforgivable Curses.”

Minerva shivered. “It is a purely academic project. I will not be developing a working curse model. I shall ensure that I leave enough unrevealed so no one else could make a model. Do you wish me to make an unbreakable vow on that?”

“No. Of course not.” He looked Minerva directly. “Stay safe, Minerva. I could not bear to lose you.”

“I shall be quiet as a mouse. I aspire to nothing grander than teaching some classes and doing my research on my off days.”

“And, perhaps, make friends among the staff and-“

“Have a relationship?”

“I did not say that.”

“You harp that I must move on from Piers.”

“You are too young to grieve overlong. Life is for living.”

“I know that. And I am not grieving still,” said Minerva. “My melancholy is simply there. Its source I know not. Sometimes I think I know but it slips away.”

“It must be frustrating.”

“Oh, it is, Uncle.” Minerva winced. She rubbed at her temples. “I’m getting another headache.”

“It is a bad one? Do you want to rest and leave for Hogwarts tomorrow?”

Minerva shook her head. “No. We go today. It would be rude to cancel at the last minute. I’ll get a headache potion there.”

A chiming clock on the mantelpiece reminded Theodore of the time.He shrank Minerva’s cases and mirror and pocketed them. "We are due at Hogwarts in the next half hour. Shall we?"

“I’m ready for a new adventure,” said Minerva. They continued their conversation as they left her quarters.

“I may have differences with Armando but I do admire what he has made of that school - all established experts on staff, and the library is a researcher's dream. Then there are the still uncatalogued artifacts of immense historical value. What I could do with -" Theodore cleared his throat. "Beauxbaton is a young school. It is always good to have something to aspire to. One day, we will be amongst the best in the world. If Beauxbaton ever comes in second, I'd rather it was to Hogwarts. I'd slit my throat if we ever trailed Durmstrang.”

* * *

Footsteps thundered down the staircase causing the headmaster to look up from his post in the entry hall. Albus fairly elevated down the steps so fast was his descent. Armando scrutinized his deputy's appearance - trimmed beard, freshly combed hair, elegant formal robes of deep blue velour and a matching hat. So much for neglecting his appearance, he thought.

Albus spoke breathlessly. "They ... they just apparated at ... at the gates. How do ... do I look?"

Armando helped Albus straighten his robes and hat. "You look fine. Relax, Albus."

"I'm trying."

"All is in readiness?"

"Yes. The marble bath is in place in her bathroom, in the right color and shape finally."

With great effort, Armando suppressed any comment on this new extravagance. Albus had been driving the castle’s elf staff beyond endurance and distraction for the better part of the weekend. "Solar or spare bedroom, did you ever decide?"

"Both."

"I see." Armando adjusted his own small cap. "I was inspecting the wards last night. I found that you had put in some additional refinements."

"Oh, those, yes, I did. It must have slipped my mind to tell you."

"I was surprised that you extended them beyond the lake and the Forbidden Forest. Quite a bit beyond their previous boundaries."

"It seemed the logical thing to do. The wards should cover all the surrounding environs not just the castle proper."

"Of course. And the new restrictions on the front gates regarding the press and unknown persons?"

"Just a precaution. If they have business with us or are known to us personally then they will be let through. Otherwise, the gates will repel their entry. There will be no exceptions."

"Very thoughtful and, ah, thorough. Shall we?" Armando opened the main doors. The two men stood at the entrance watching a thestral-drawn carriage make its steady approach to the castle.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Armando?"

"What is that conveyance? Is that a thestral pulling it?"

"Hagrid helped find it. Very economical. No feed involved."

"And?"

"I thought the carriage would be a ... a nice touch to welcome visitors with."

"Visitors have always walked to the castle. Doing so gives us time to prepare."

Albus cleared his throat. "You will admit that it is a long way from the gates to the castle. In good weather, a long walk is always welcome but with ice and snow, is it not better to make a good impression and see to -"

"Say no more. I understand, Albus."

"Thank you, Armando." Albus felt a sense of serenity as the carriage drew closer. _This is the first day of the rest of my life and I will make the most of it._

* * *

In the carriage, Minerva swiveled from side to side. The carriage had fascinated her.

Theodore remarked, ”I don't remember this from my last visit. It must be new."

"Very practical yet cozy.”

"Harumph. It seems a trifle indulgent." Mentally, he was formulating something similar for Beauxbaton but more elegant with real horses.

"I think it puts a visitor at ease. It's very thoughtful." She could not help snuggling deeper into the plush seats.

Theodore realized then just how thoughtful a gesture it was and who was most likely to have thought of it. "I wonder what other changes have been wrought."

Theodore eyed the castle. Was it his imagination or were the walls gleaming?

* * *

Armando and Theodore shook hands and embraced as old friends were wont to do. Albus and Minerva smiled at each other as they shook hands.

Theodore gestured towards Minerva. ”Armando, may I present Miss Minerva McGonagall."

Albus saw the shrewd assessment that passed over Armando's eyes as the headmaster shook Minerva's hand.

Armanda radiated warmth. ”Miss McGonagall, a pleasure. Albus did not exaggerate. I am certain that you will enjoy your stay with us."

"Thank you, headmaster. I feel at home already."

"You do?" Albus asked.

"It's the strangest thing, Albus. The minute I passed through the gates I felt ... I felt -“

“Comfortable? Safe?” suggested Albus.

“Welcomed, actually,” replied Minerva.

“Before we proceed, Minerva has a powerful headache. Can we stop by the -“ began Theodore.

“The headache is gone,” said Minerva.

“It is? When?”

“I’m not certain. I think when we got into the carriage.”

“Did you like the carriage?” asked Albus. “It’s just a prototype. More improvements are needed.”

“It’s perfect as it is. Don’t change it, please.”

Albus beamed. “Perfect. Very good.”

Armando watched the interaction between the two closely. "Albus, please show Minerva to her quarters and, oh, in an hour escort her to my office for afternoon tea."

Albus ushered Minerva towards the main staircase. Armando and Theodore watched the two ascend the stairs.

"I think this is for the best, Armando,” said Theodore.

“If I had doubts, they are dispelled.”

"You will take care of her won't you?"

"She will be in the best of hands. Albus will put her happiness before his own."

"That is becoming obvious."

"You have no idea, Theodore. No idea at all."

"I have all her estate paperwork with me. Minerva is fully in charge of all the details. Gringotts has completed the transfer of funds this morning and the estate steward informs me that all is well with her family lands." The two men walked towards the headmaster's office. "I've done what I can for her. This mess in Egypt is beyond me."

“Has information about the actual events been suppressed?”

"For the most part but nothing ever remains secret for very long. The Rampals and their circle have not been muzzled. Only the lack of true information stays their hand."

“According to Albus, everyone involved were obliviated with a few exceptions. Given time the details will become vague and fact will become rumor and hearsay."

Theodore sighed. “Let us hope so. Albus looks well. When last I saw him in Luxor, I thought I had never seen a man more steeped in despair and impotent rage."

Armando nodded. “I am grateful to Reza for seeing to his frame of mind before allowing him to return."

Theodore shuddered. "Now there is a man I would not like to cross. His sense of justice is rather macabre.“

"Have you heard from him lately? And the boy, Khalil, do you have news of him?"

"Reza's last note indicated that the Guild was overjoyed at their new project for it promises decades of discoveries. Khalil has embraced the wizarding world. In fact, his family has moved to Luxor. The boy haunts the Guild office as much as he can. Reza says that he talks his ear off every chance he gets."

"What about the boy's protection?" Armando asked.

"Do not fret. I have seen the precautions the Guild has initiated to watch over the secret keeper and his family. They see Khalil as a future leader in their ranks after all and not one to be wasted. Reza will be very careful with him."

"I still find it incredible to believe that a boy that young was able to discern the danger he was in and flee."

"The boy's raw intelligence is daunting. One day Khalil will realize the influence that is his to wield. I for one am very glad the boy is on our side."

* * *

Albus guided Minerva on a brief tour of her quarters - all six rooms of it.

"I never expected this, Albus."

"Is ... is there anything else you need? Give me a few hours and -"

"No, oh, no. This is too much. Far more room than I could ever need. Are all faculty quarters so ... so lavish?"

"Not exactly." Albus thought quickly. "We seldom have faculty with your credentials and, uh, most faculty do have homes elsewhere and they only apparate in for their classes."

"I see. "

Albus felt his tense shoulders beginning to loosen. "You can change the color scheme, Minerva, and the furniture can be -"

"I don't want to change anything. Everything is lovely. My things will blend in wonderfully.”

Albus exhaled feeling the tension leave his body. He watched her unpack.

Minerva expanded her trunks. For a few minutes, books and other belongings flew out and arranged themselves on the shelves of the sitting room. Minerva saw Albus examining the mirror.

"You must think me silly for having a muggle mirror." Minerva stood to the side of it. Both she and Albus were reflected on its dull surface. "I think it’s showing its age. The reflection is fading with time as if the image was being seen through a gauzy veil."

Albus was both elated and sad. Elated that the spell he had placed on the mirror was intact and sad because Minerva was not seeing what he hoped she would be seeing.

"I can't bear to part with it. It was my mother’s,” continued Minerva.

"In that case, it should be in a place of honor."

"I know just the place." Minerva carefully levitated the mirror into the bedroom. Albus followed her there. "Right here by the window. Does it look all right?"

"It's perfect."

"I believe I shall like it here, Albus." Minerva looked out the window at the magnificent view of the lake. "I mean to take control of my life. It’s one reason that I believe I was not ... content at Beauxbaton. I left England when I was very young. Perhaps, fate decries that I return."

"A sense of unfinished business?"

"Exactly!" said Minerva. "I will try your patience I'm afraid."

"Life at Hogwarts was becoming uneventful. I look forward to some excitement." Albus grinned back.


	21. A March Through Time

“Avada Kedavra!” A deadly bolt of green light shot out from Albus’ wand straight at Minerva’s silvery shield. With a flick of her wrist, her shield deflected the curse.

Minerva countered immediately. “Crucio!”

Albus sent a fiery ball of energy on an interception course. “Imperio!”

Faster than the oncoming curse streaking towards her, Minerva transformed into her animagi form. She dashed towards Dumbledore. The third curse hit the far dungeon wall sending a spray of stones and bricks into the air.

Minerva reappeared in a crouching position in front of Albus. “Moraris Mori!”

Albus held his hands up. “PROTEGO!”

His shield glowed red as the dark green curse impacted. Albus was pushed back a few steps. The curse did not dissipate as expected. Albus was forced to maintain his shield as the curse persisted.

Standing well off to the side, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus asked, “For how long does it last?”

“Duration is proportional to the magical strength of the creator,” explained Minerva. Dressed in slim black trousers tucked into black boots with a red leather vest over a buttoned down, long-sleeved white blouse, she looked more warrior than teacher.

“The longest so far is twenty minutes,” added Albus as he planted his feet more firmly and made a pushing motion with both hands. His shield glowed brighter and expanded another meter.

“Do you feel the draw, Albus?” asked Armando observing the Moraris curse in action beside Phineas’ portrait. The dark green mass of energy stretched to the edges of Albus’ shield.

“Of course I do!” answered Albus. He sounded just a bit cross. “Just wait until it’s your turn!”

Minerva gestured at the curse and slowly closed her right fist while pulling her fist towards her body. The curse energy began to recede into the center of Albus’ shield.

Armando scribbled on a piece of parchment. “I’m quite content to leave the experimentation to the two of you.”

“Minerva, are you … are you doing … something?” asked Dumbledore. With spread fingers, he positioned his hands closer together so they formed a sphere. His shield began to undulate and cycle through various reddish hues. “It feels different than … than before.” Perspiration began to bead on his forehead.

“I’d like to see if narrowing the focus is sufficient to-“

Albus’ shield and the Moraris curse exploded with an ear-splitting crack like lightning on a clear day. Albus was thrown a good three meters backwards.

“- penetrate your shield,” finished Minerva. “And, yes, it is.”

Sprawled on the cold ground flat on his back, Albus groaned. “I plan on … on sleeping for a week. I feel … quite spent.”

Minerva bent over him feeling his forehead and helping him to his feet. “How did it feel this time, Albus?”

“Like a stiletto slipping deep into my side. No pain but an obvious decrease in energy and oxygen the deeper it went. That last minute felt like I was breathing underwater,” gasped Albus. “What’s the next … next test?”

Minerva gave him a Pepper-Up potion which he drained in one gulp. “This concludes my test. Thank you, Albus.” She helped Albus remove the heavy gray over-robe that had served as his body armor.

“Phineus, as our Dark Arts expert, has Minerva created a curse of Unforgivable quality?” asked Armando.

Phineus’ eyes narrowed. He looked at Minerva with the light of speculation in his eyes. “I would say she has. Oh, what you could have accomplished in my house.”

“The Sorting Hat couldn’t decide between Ravenclaw or Gryffindor,” said Minerva. She pressed a glass of pumpkin juice on Dumbledore. “Have more liquids. The curse kills you from the inside. One of the first things it targets is water in your body then oxygen. You have to be dehydrated. Drink up.”

Phineas continued, “It is aptly named - the Lingering Death Curse. It is an ingenious, complex approach, Miss McGonagall. Not instant like the Avada with the suffering aspects of the Cruciatus. It certainly keeps the victim occupied as they work to keep it at bay all the while it depletes them of life energy. Brilliantly devious.”

“Well, that was not what I was aiming for in its final form,” said Minerva. “It’s a nightmare.”

“What will be your next step, Minerva?” asked Armando. “It will have to be reviewed and registered with the Ministry beforehand prior to publication.”

Minerva shook her head. “I’m not releasing it. Ever. It’s far too dangerous.”

“That is your prerogative but I would suggest that we keep the codex intact,” said Armando.

“Why risk someone stumbling over it in the future? Albus and I are the only two who know how to cast it, and once I’ve destroyed everything, no one else can use it. It’s for the best,” said Minerva.

“I feel that it could be important,” said Armando.

“Are you certain?” asked Albus.

Armando nodded. “It was an extremely strong impression.”

“I suppose it can be stored at Gringottsand-“ began Albus.

“Albus, the curse nearly killed you. How can you think about keeping it? ” asked Minerva.

“I shall explain over dinner, Minerva,” said Armando. “Not a word to Slughorn. We shall keep all knowledge of this matter to the four of us. It will be our little secret.”

* * *

Albus found Minerva reading the Daily Prophet in the staff lounge. The front page was dominated by the mysterious death of Hepzibah Smith, a descendant of school founder Helga Hufflepuff.

“Minerva, I have a problem.”

She put the paper down on the table. “What can I do to help?”

“The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I’ve hired cannot assume his post until next term. Would you consider teaching DADA this year?” asked Albus.

“Teach two disciplines simultaneously and run my house? You overestimate my capacity.”

“I will teach your Transfiguration classes.”

“You’re far more qualified than I to teach DADA.”

“Here speaks one who created the-you-know-what,” teased Albus. “Consider it an opportunity to increase your overall teaching experience before you become my deputy next year. It is only for the year. Do not become attached to it.”

“I shan’t. If I am to teach properly, I shall have to revise the coursework,” said Minerva.

“You will have a free hand. By all means, teach DADA as you see fit,” said Albus.

“Some parents may feel I’m too rigorous. I warn you there shall be complaints.”

Albus smiled. “Send any letters to me, Professor. It will be my pleasure to, what’s the muggle saying, run interference for you.”

* * *

On a chilly February morning in 1971, Albus sat in his office watching Alastor Moody pace across the floor. The auror had raced to Hogwarts after giving his superiors a report on the spate of Death Eater attacks. The Ministry was not in any hurry to do something about it. Moody had had enough.

"Minerva is ideal. She's an animagi and -"

"No, Alastor. That is final."

"I think we should let her decide if she wants to help the Order or not."

Albus rose to his full height. "You will not be informing Minerva about the Order. You will not breathe one word about it."

"But," insisted Alastor. “She could get into places we never could. And, what's more, no one knows her to be one of us."

"And that is how it will stand."

"We don't have to use her in the field. Her organizing talents would be a godsend setting up safe locations, procuring supplies and such."

Albus pinned the younger man with an implacable stare. "Alastor, I will not repeat myself again, you will not, nor will anyone else, speak of the Order to Minerva. If I hear of anyone doing so, you will answer to me."

"I don't understand your reluctance to use her talents -" Albus flicked one finger and Alastor found himself immobile, rooted to the floor.

"I will not use her for anything, for anyone, for any reason. I made a promise to ... someone once that I would take care of her and see her happy. I mean to fulfill that promise." Albus flicked his finger again. Alastor sagged. "Minerva is the new head of Gryffindor this year. I do not want my deputy to be overburdened more than she already is."

* * *

The headmaster lay back against his chair and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. It was the end of term and yet he felt himself growing more and more restive. Voldemort had returned as he had feared. Harry's account of what happened with Quirrell confirmed his worst fears. Minister Fudge had turned a blind ear to any attempt he made to talk about Voldemort. And what of Harry?

His rumination was interrupted by two sharp knocks at his door. "Come in, Minerva."

"I've brought you sustenance and to nag you to sleep." Minerva placed a steaming cup of hot cocoa on his desk. "As my mother always said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."

"You won my heart a long time ago." The words left his mouth before he could think. His eyes flew to her face while his tongue formed an apology.

A soft smile graced her lips. "And look where it's got me, nagging and cajoling you to not overwork." Over the years of them working together, their private banter had become more and more flirtatious. Minerva saw no harm in it. Flirting eased the tension and no one was harmed by it. "All the children are gone. There will be time enough to finish all this tomorrow. Drink your cocoa and get to bed."

"Yes. mother." He was contrite but he made no move to follow her request.

Minerva chuckled. "You can be so stubborn sometimes." She wrapped one hand around his cocoa.

"And you never let me win an argument."

"What are friends for?" Minerva shooed him away from his desk and into his bedroom. She helped him with his ornate outer cloak then transformed his inner robe into a nightshirt.

"You are a very managing female."

"Someone has to take you in hand otherwise you walk all over anyone who tries to help you." She fluffed his pillows and waited until he got into bed. She made sure that a book lay ready for him next to his cocoa. With infinite care, she brushed back a strand of hair that had slipped over his face. "Get some sleep."

"On one condition - that you join me for a picnic by the lake tomorrow."

"Agreed." Minerva gave him a quick peck on the lips. A kiss between friends nothing more. "Good night, Albus."

"Good night, Minerva." Albus watched her leave and close the door. "Sweet dreams, my love."


	22. The Truth Unveiled

Minerva was in a lather of indignation. She stormed and railed in Albus' office long into the night.

"How dare you think that you could keep something like this from me? What happens to one of my charges affects me. You should have confided your suspicions to me!"

"Minerva, I didn't mean to not tell you. It is ancient history. No one is sure what is true and what is false."

"I am not leaving here until you tell me all you know about the Chamber of Secrets. I want to know what is not in the history books."

"It's late. Get some sleep."

"No, that poor girl has been missing nearly overnight now. We have to find that chamber. Please Albus, tell me." Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. "Or is it that you have no faith in me or my abilities? It may be decades since my last expedition but my skills are sharper than ever."

"Never doubt my ... my regard for you, everything that you are."

"Then let me help."

"You are a great help to me. Without you this school could not function as well as it does."

Minerva stood still facing him across his desk. "That's not the kind of help I'm talking about, Albus. Since the end of last year, I've noticed how more and more tired you've become. Yet, you still manage to disappear to parts unknown every few days. And what of these sudden strange errands that you need to run? Or the owl posts that you do not allow me to see?"

"You do not need more to do. Leave things as they are."

"If I cared less for you than I do, I would do as you say. You are my closest friend. I would share your burden if you would only let me."

Albus knew very well the determined look that Minerva aimed his way. "I have no hope of changing your mind, do I?"

"None at all."

“And you are not likely to stop demanding answers are you?”

“Naturally not.”

"Then, my dear, order us coffee and sandwiches. I have many tales for you - a chamber of many secrets, an order of the few but brave and a young man warped by ambition and fear.”

* * *

Alastor stood by the open bedroom door. The better to make a quick exit should the need arise. He had delivered the news of the attack on Minerva. He watched Albus pace and rant. He knew better than most how deep Albus' feelings for her went. Not that the older man had ever revealed much in the way of words but his actions spoke of something more profound than mere affection or friendship.

"I should never have told her. I should never have given in but what could I have done? She is relentless!"

"Told her what, Albus?"

"Riddle, the chamber, the Order ... all of it ... years ago."

Several pieces of information now clicked into place in Alastor's head. Minerva's sudden unannounced involvement in the Order, while welcomed, had been puzzling. She had seemed to know more than she let on. She had gone so far as to take charge of many initiatives for the Order such as planning international escape routes or securing readily available funds for emergencies. Alastor had never questioned exactly where the funds came from but there was always enough for the asking. Her presence had given the Order much needed structure and stability without which they could have not grown stronger in number and purpose.

"I failed her again."

"Again?"

"Once decades ago I did not protect her from harm."

Moody held his tongue though he was very curious about this new revelation. "It's not your fault."

"Oh, yes it is. She became a target and someone that could be used against me. I never wanted that for her and yet that is what happened."

Sirius came by. "Kingsley's downstairs. He says that Minerva was taken to St. Mungo's. Here's Poppy's note."

Albus snatched the note from Sirius' hand. He read it quickly. Sirius and Alastor watched in shock as Albus sank onto the bed and rocked back and forth silently while taking long gasps of breath. After a few minutes, Albus composed himself.

"I'll be at the Diagon Alley safe house. I can reach St. Mungo's more conveniently from there."

"May I remind you that there's a warrant for your arrest."

"What of it?"

The two healers studied their patient closely. When it was learned who the mystery patient was, there was no shortage of volunteers or visitors despite the two Ministry guards posted at the door.

"Her heart stopped twice while we were preparing her for transport here," said one healer. "But the professor's always been a fighter."

"I don't understand the high level of neurological activity. It doesn't match the norm for stunner injuries."

"You're right. She should be unconscious, very little activity, with all the pain spells she's under.

A booming voice was heard outside of the room. "If you know who I am, then why are you still standing in front of me! Let me pass!"

The door blew off its hinges. Albus strode in. "How is she?"

"Her recovery will be slow but she will recover. There is no permanent damage." said the first healer.

"Leave us." The healers nearly ran out of the room. Albus looked down at her pale, drawn face. "You were supposed to stop taking risks but you are a stubborn woman. Sleep good dreams, Minerva. I'll come and wish you good night every night you're here. They won't stop me."

He kissed her forehead once. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

* * *

Hogwarts was finally rid of the odious Umbridge and a collegial atmosphere had returned to mealtimes. Over breakfast, Minerva ate absentmindedly. As happy as was to be out of hospital, one thing marred her contentment - nightmares. They had began while she was healing at St. Mungo’s. The mediwitches had told her they were likely from the trauma of being hit by four stunners to the chest. The dreams had only grown more vivid and memorable on her return to Hogwarts. On awakening, she remembered the words of an old flame - Piers Rampal. She pondered them now.

_We have always been honest with each other. Our marriage would be based on a lie, Piers. I care too much for you to do that to you, to us._

_I've missed you, Minerva. We have the rest of our lives to look forward to, starting right now._

_The pain is not ... not natural. What have you done to me? Poison, a curse, what?_

She muttered under her breath, “My mind is playing tricks on me. I never said those things. Poison? How ridiculous.”

“What was that, Minerva?” asked Albus who sat next to her.

Minerva rubbed at her forehead as a headache began to throb.

“Are you all right?”

She glanced at Albus. “Just … just a headache. I’ll take a potion later.”

Albus focused all of his attention on her. He touched her shoulder. “You need rest and you will get it. You are not to do any work, none at all today.”

At hearing Albus’ voice and feeling his hand on her shoulder, a frisson of awareness came over Minerva. For a few seconds, she was acutely aware that he was a man and she a woman. The intensity of feeling quite shocked her.

“Do I need to make that an order, Professor McGonagall?”

“I do feel … out of sorts,” admitted Minerva. “A day in bed, um, resting should be all I need to … to feel refreshed.”

“And night,” added Albus.

“N-n-night?”

“I will have all your meals delivered to your quarters. You are not to think of the school or the things left undone,” said Albus. “Your health is the most important thing to me. Will you do as I ask?”

“I’m going to take a short walk then I’ll rest. I promise,” said Minerva.

Albus smiled. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

* * *

Later that evening, Minerva had thought to get a sleeping draught from Poppy Pomfrey the nurse but changed her mind. If she tossed and turned, so be it.

“It’s not like I’m losing any beauty sleep,” said Minerva to herself as she settled into her bed.

She began to dream. This time another voice teased her mind. The words were faint at first then stronger and louder as they repeated in her mind’s eye.

_With you I feel as if I've walked into a shaft of blessed sunlight after a lifetime wandering amongst the mists. My vision is clear and my path true._

_Because of you I dare to dream of things once beyond my reach. It is your unwitting gift, my love. For each day we are parted, your gift shall lend me strength and purpose. When you come to me, I shall show you our new home, our new life. We have been wanderers too long, you and I. Until that day, know that I leave my heart with you, always. Hurry to me._

Minerva woke with a start at three in the morning. Minerva was instantly wide awake. A hasty spell set her room ablaze with light. She knew where she was - in her rooms at Hogwarts. More importantly, she knew were she was not - a camp in the Egyptian desert.

Minerva sat silently on her bed. Her legs were pulled up to her chest and her arms hugged her knees. Sorrow held fast in her heart. Memories, the good, the bad and the awful jostled for position in her mind. She wiped at the tracks of bitter tears upon her face.

Her eyes went to her mirror. She scrambled off her bed to stand before it. Her fingers grazed the frame. Her voice began softly then gained in strength as she said, "Show me my love. Show me my gift. Show me now.”

The mirror image was vivid and bright. The dullness of the last years had been banished. Minerva sniffed once. She rubbed her arms as twin sensations of chill and heat streaked through her being. She looked around her rooms. “I’m home."

She put her dressing gown on and dashed out of her quarters. The circular stairs had never seemed so long. She made her way through the headmaster's office and into his private quarters. She opened the bedroom door and peered in. She sat down by his bed and watched him sleep for a few minutes. She slipped under the blanket and wrapped her arms around him. They slept.

A few hours later Albus Dumbledore woke up with an armful. "Minerva? What .. what are you doing here?"

"I WAS sleeping."

"But ... but I don't understand. You're in my bed."

"And you find me objectionable? I thought we were friends." Minerva watched his eyes. She had missed them the most.

Albus ignored the pleasant sensation of having her so near. Her scent wafted seductively to his nose. With her tousled hair and sleepy gaze, she gave disturbing form to his dreams and fantasies. He had to do something before he embarrassed himself, or worse her. "We are. I'm just surprised."

"I had something important to tell you but I found you asleep. I didn't want to wake you. So, I went to sleep, too."

Albus tried to extricate himself out of her arms but somehow he couldn't. Her arms kept him close. "We ought to dress and then you can tell me then. Over breakfast."

"It's too early for breakfast." She aimed a deliberately sultry look his way. "Your bed is very comfortable. Have a lie in with me."

The look she gave him froze him on the spot. The huskiness of her voice and her double entendre beckoned to his suppressed desires jumbling his mind and will. "Minerva?"

Minerva traced his strong jawline. Her eyes lingered on his lips before coming to look into his eyes. "I am attracted to you, Albus Dumbledore."

His breath came out in a rush. He could not look away.

Minerva kissed his nose. "Because of you I dare to dream of things once beyond my reach. It is your unwitting gift, my love. For each day we are parted, your gift shall lend me strength and purpose."

Albus trembled. She brushed her cheek against his.

She spoke into his ear. "When you come to me, I shall show you our new home, our new life. We have been wanderers too long, you and I."

His mouth opened then shut. Every breath was short and ragged.

Minerva placed one hand over his heart. "Until that day, know that I leave my heart with you, always. Hurry to me."

Albus breathed deeply. "You remember? Everything?"

Minerva nodded. "You've put up with me all these years. Will you have me now as I am?"

Albus could not speak only nod before pulling her closer against him. For a time they simply held each other. Hesitant caresses communicated more than mere words could express. Shy kisses renewed promises made long ago.

A clock softly chiming broke into their private world.

"We've lost so much time." Albus said. "I should never have left you."

"Albus, don't go back there. Please. Let it be."

"Reza and I should have returned to the camp much earlier than we did."

"Stop it! It was what it was. I have few regrets and you ought to have none.”

"I had planned otherwise. We cannot restore what we lost. That I regret deeply.”

"Then we shouldn't lose any more time. I suggest starting where we left off." Minerva wound her arms around his neck. "Will you refresh my memory, my Albus?"

"It would be my pleasure, my dear."

Eyes closed. Lips met. For a time the world outside was the furthest thing from their minds.

* * *

Three days later while cuddling by the blazing fireplace, Albus broached a subject that he had been dreading - the subject of Piers.

"Minerva?"

"Hmmm, husband." Minerva lay with her back to his chest. One hand absently stroked his leg.

"I like the way you say that."

"I like saying it."

"What exactly do you remember about Piers?"

Minerva let out an aggravated sigh. “Are you trying to kill the mood?"

"We have not talked about him or Abraxos."

"I remember very little about the tomb itself. I see no need for further discussion, Albus. I remember Uncle Theodore informing me that Piers had died. Piers is not relevant. He’s dead and gone.“

"Not exactly."

Minerva turned around. Her surprise was evident. "What are you saying?"

"Reza obliviated some parts of your memory and added some new ones. It was for the best."

“He's alive?!”

"Not exactly."

"You are talking in riddles."

"I disagreed with Reza but he was adamant that Piers be punished for murdering the Ramallahs and for what he did to you."

“What happened to Abdul and Hema?"

"Your knowledge of that was obliviated too."

"Albus, please, tell me. What happened to Piers?"

"Justice, Minerva. The justice of the desert happened."

"Is Piers dead or not? It's a simple yes or no question."

"Life is never that simple."

"It can be if you choose it to be." Minerva smiled at him. "Let's deal with this and leave it behind us afterwards. All right?"

Albus agreed. "I contacted Khalil. He will be here in the morning."

"Khalil? Can’t you just tell me?"

"I cannot be objective on the matter so Khalil is the best person to tell you about it."


	23. Something Wicked No More

A few students loitering at the castle entrance noticed the impeccably dressed wizard taking the castle steps two at a time. Unused to what Englishmen would term mild spring weather, Guild Vizier Khalil Hamdi opted for thicker robes of deep burgundy with gold trim and hemmed with metallic geometric shapes. He carried with him a medium-sized rectangular trunk.

"So, it's time at last. Good." He gave Minerva a bone-crushing hug. "Where is Albus?"

"Albus is attending to the world right now." Minerva appraised the well-favored younger man. He would always be his charming eight year old self in her mind's eye.

"The world?"

"We came to an agreement a long time ago because our working styles differed so. I'm organized and he's not. I like detail. He loathes it. He likes theory as do I, but I value the practical implementation of the theory more. We compromised. I mind Hogwarts while he took care of the rest of the world."

"Albus is a bit of a disorganized ponderer." Khalil took out a coin and his wand.

"I have never met a man who turns problems over in his mind as much as he does - sideways, upside down, every which way."

"Knowledge can only propel us forward, never backwards." The coin was transfigured into a wheeled tray standing high at waist level. He placed the trunk on top.

"I agree but he's also wont to look for more questions than when he first started. It's maddening listening to him explain his thoughts in ever-widening circles of consequence. Circles inside circles inside circles. At some point, he is so far from where he started, he has to start over again."

Khalil began to push the tray in front of him."And is it not equally maddening when you fixate on one point to the exclusion of all other possibilities?"

"Touché. Over the years, he has learned to be more focused and I've widened my scope a bit more." Minerva had been casting surreptitious glances at the mysterious box since she had laid eyes on it. She could no longer contain her curiosity. "Khalil, what is that thing?"

"The key to your memories."

"A pensieve?"

"Not exactly."

"You are becoming as annoyingly cryptic as Albus."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

They ascended the staircase to Albus' office. The men embraced warmly. Minerva poured out pumpkin juice for all of them.

"It's been too long, my boy."

"Seven years since my last visit."

"The family all right?"

"My two oldest have completed their guild master apprenticeships this year. That leaves me with a year to recover before Jamilah Minerva begins her apprenticeship." Khalil collapsed his lanky frame into a plush armchair. He looked at Minerva. "I do believe she has decided to follow her aama Minerva and specialize in Transfiguration."

Minerva clapped her hands. "How wonderful! Simply wonderful!"

"I don't suppose all those Transfiguration-related books included with her birthday presents had any impact at all,” teased Albus.

"The discipline could well stand to have another fine woman scholar. Jamilah will be exceptional. Mark my words."

Khalil added. "I would be honored, Minerva, if you would administer Jamilah's final masters exam when the time comes."

"Thank you. I would love to." Minerva's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And how is Yasmine? Is she done with her doctorate?"

"My wife finished three months ago. Thank, Allah. She was in the foulest of moods while waiting for the results."

"I don't suppose I could ask one of your boys to teach here?" Albus asked.

"Hmm, despite the weather here Kadin Albus may be open to a suggestion. Samir is committed to the Guild for the next five years. I am grooming him to succeed me. Kadin feels he has too much wanderlust to stay in one place."

"A well-traveled man is a well-informed one. Young as he is the students would relate better to him. He needn't teach classes formally, perhaps elective courses with less than five students at a time."

"I thought your Ministry had rejected the idea of group, cross-discipline teaching?"

Minerva snorted. "They have, repeatedly. The Education committee insists that NEWTs level courses are enough. They don't realize the benefit that our most talented and dedicated students could derive from close one-on-one mentoring and instruction in topics not in our standard curriculum."

"Minerva has been lobbying the Ministry for the last two decades. One day it will change."

"I'm certainly not giving up." Minerva declared. She eyed Khalil's mysterious trunk. "Albus, can we get started please? The sooner we finish the better."

Albus sat down in a chair next to her. Khalil sat straighter. "I am prepared. You may remove the Secret Keeper charm when you are ready, Minerva."

Minerva glanced at Albus before saying. "I'm afraid I can't do that." .

"I don't understand."

"Khalil, I can count on one hand the number of people who know about Albus and myself being married. You are one because you're our Secret Keeper. Poppy Pomfrey knows because she's the school nurse. And Albus' brother Aberforth knows. The portraits in this room know but they are bound and so cannot reveal our secret."

"But you remember now, do you not? Why would you not want to reveal it?"

"No weapon would wound me more than Minerva being used against me." Albus held her hand in his. "I would never willingly put Minerva in that position."

"As long as you keep our secret, Khalil, no one will ever have proof. Oh, someone may suspect but nothing would come of it. Gossip would die before it had a chance to flourish." Minerva's voice softened. "We may walk arm in arm in the halls yet all any would see are two dedicated friends being affectionate with the other. That is how we need it to be."

"Forever?"

"We are prepared for that,” Albus said. "Are you willing to continue on as our Secret Keeper?"

"I would not ask to be relieved of this privilege and service."

"Very good. Thank you." Albus rose. "I will retrieve the pensieve."

Minerva looked puzzled. "I thought that’s what Khalil brought with him."

"No, my dear. That ... thing ... will play its part later." Albus returned a short while later with a large pensieve. He positioned a low table next to Minerva's chair and balanced the pensieve on the table. "This pensieve contains all the memories and knowledge that were obliviated from your mind. For completeness, there are memories here from Reza, Theodore and myself. They have been combined into seamless streams so you may have access to all our memories at one time." Albus brandished his wand. "Khalil, I will take Minerva in. Please watch over us in the meantime. Ready, Minerva?"

"What memory will we begin with?"

"We will start with our entry into Abraxos' tomb." Albus hesitated. "Minerva, what you will see is the truth. I am not proud of what I had to do. If you feel differently about me afterwards, I will understand."

"Understand this, I will not let the truth come between us in any way, shape or form." She grinned up at him. "You will have to think of something more creative than that to get rid of me."

Albus waved his hand over the pensieve. The conscious reality was replaced by the past.

* * *

"Stop. Wait!” Albus shouted ahead of him to prevent Minerva or Piers from going into the tomb. Beside him, Reza matched his long strides.

"What do you know about this situation?" asked Reza.

"Abraxos was a vizier of Amenhotep. He was assassinated by jealous courtiers. Minerva discovered that this tomb is his. You heard Khalil's account. What do you make of it?"

"It brings to mind a case of possession. An ancient djinn or ifrit is a malevolent spirit that refuses to find peace."

"What is the best defense against one?"

"There is no defense. We must render it harmless before it does the same to us."

"And how do we do that?"

"With speed and power." Reza touched his arm. "Albus, we must permanently immobilize this spirit."

"Kill it, of course."

"Killing an ifrit would take more power and skill than both us combined possess. We must force it into a ... a vessel or a form and once in that form, we must make sure it cannot escape."

"We use a statue or a -"

"No, Albus, Khalil's accounting makes it plain that Abraxos is hunting for another body. It will possess a man ... or a woman immediately. A willing possession is his goal but I do not think he will hesitate to force one. He will have power over a forced host. The important thing is that we cannot allow Abraxos to transfer from body to body now or in the future, do you understand me?"

"We have to deal with him now. No choice there,” said Albus. “There will be four of us in there. He can't choose Minerva."

"She will not be his first choice as she is a different gender but he is desperate. We must act swiftly. Abraxos must be imprisoned in whatever body it first possesses. There cannot be any exceptions."

"Do ifrits possess animals?"

"No. An animal's lack of sentient intelligence does not make it a viable host."

“Good. Minerva has a cat form. That should keep her safe."

"That leaves three,” said Reza. “The both of us are skilled in Occlumensis. Abraxos will need to expend power to possess either one of us. He is weak and so will choose the weakest among us."

Albus stood still. "Piers?"

"Yes. When the possession is in progress, I will act. Do I have your agreement that you will not interfere?"

"You are asking me permission to ... to send a man to certain death."

"It will be far worse than death. Piers has committed several crimes. One of them against you. I have decided that this will be part of his sentence. Do you agree?"

"If I do not?"

"The longer justice is delayed the higher chance that Rampal will escape. How can we show mercy when he showed none to Hema, to Abdul and to Minerva?"

Albus could see Minerva preparing herself just a few meters away. He nodded at Reza. Then he began to close his mind.

* * *

The gray cat bounded down the corridor setting its collar bell pealing frantically. The three men followed her at a run with Reza in the lead followed by Piers then Albus. Piers had mocked the overcautious Reza who demanded that Minerva keep to her cat form and the men would follow in fixed order. Dumbledore had said not a word.

Soon they reached the antechamber where they found the corpse of Professor Hammadi. Crouching by the body, Piers confirmed its identity. Behind him the ruby eyes of the ibis glowed softly. In the dimness of the room, the glow was hard to miss.

Albus scooped Minerva in one arm and shielded her eyes with his other hand. Under his breath he repeated the spell to keep her from transforming. He could feel a strong, determined presence battering his mental shields.

Reza pointed his wand at the ibis status. It shattered sending shards flying in all directions.

Piers shot to his feet as a marionette on strings. "What's happening!" His head lolled downward. "NO! NO!" One arm flailed in the air. The other clutched at his heart. He groaned. "Help ... help me ... please! NO! Help me!”

Reza wasted no time. "Abscindo membratimo!" A stream of blue light shot out from his wand hitting Piers on the chest. Piers was outlined in a nimbus of blue sparks.

Minerva dug her claws into Albus' arms trying to free herself. She squirmed and hissed but Dumbledore held firm even as droplets of blood appeared on his sleeve. Albus and Minerva watched in horror as the spell did its work on Piers' flesh.

Jagged lines of blue electricity zigged and zagged across his body slashing through his clothes. His skin erupted along natural seams - ankles, knees, thigh socket, pelvis, wrists, elbows and shoulder socket. Reza incinerated each severed body part as they fell to the ground. Piers' torso and head still hung twitching in mid air. His mouth was slack. Blood trickled from his nose, mouth and ears. Ruby red eyes gazed back at Reza full of fury and hate.

Reza, sweat dripping down his face, screamed the final spell, "ABSCINDO MEMBRATIMO MORTE!”

Piers' chest exploded. The severed head landed hard on the ground.

Sickened, Albus looked away. Minerva lay unconscious in his arms.

"Take her outside, Albus. We are done here,” ordered Reza.

* * *

In a room at one of Luxor’s best hotels, Albus flinched at the open hatred on Minerva’s face. He gently fended off Minerva's fists.

"He was begging for help and you ... YOU did NOTHING!" Minerva flew at him again and again. "You held me back. WHY? WHY! "

"There was nothing anyone could have done."

"You don't know that. YOU DON'T !"

Albus wrapped his arms around her and cast a sleep spell over her. He carried her back to her bed. Theodore pushed aside the duvet. Albus laid her down gently.

"I cannot bear to see her like this, Albus." Theodore looked down on Minerva. Even in sleep she was restless. “I want to take her to Beauxbaton.”

“Not yet. We know that Piers did not invoke the charm. The Forgesi Deziro is not permanent. An antidote could reverse it still. We must keep trying,” said Albus.

"It has been two weeks. We must think of Minerva now. She is drowning in grief and rage.”

Reza entered the room. “We have consulted with all our Guild masters. None believe an antidote is possible. I am truly sorry.”

Theodore’s expression was set. “We must consider the other alternative."

Albus turned. He leaned against a window sill.

"You would give your permission, Theodore?” asked Reza.

"I want her free from this overwhelming, misguided emotion,” said Theodore. “For that freedom, I will give my permission.”

Albus whispered, “Just a little more time. Please. She’s fighting it. I know she is.”

“She has immense power. More than any witch I have ever encountered. That very power works against her,” said Reza. “The Forgesi Deziro has taken Minerva’s measure and by its properties made itself greater.”

“She’s fighting for us,” said Albus. “She did not want to forget. She made sure she would not. There are other masters. Armando is still consulting-”

“The dark elements of the potion are consuming her from within. It eats at her strength and will,” said Reza.

Defeat and desperation etched in his face, Theodore said, “I cannot watch her die. I cannot.”

Reza stepped closer to Albus. “Hope lives as long as Khalil does. My entire Guild will protect the boy all his life. We will teach him, guide him and keep him safe all his days.”

Albus extended his right hand towards Reza. “Swear an unbreakable vow.”

Without hesitation, Reza clasped the offered arm. Theodore performed the spell invoking the vow.

* * *

Minerva and Albus returned to reality. Khalil steadied her as she swayed on her feet. She leaned on his arm as he led her to a couch. Albus sat down beside her.

Minerva reached for Albus’ hand. “I understand. All of it.”

"I allowed Piers to be executed. I gave up on us. I made -“

Minerva placed a finger over Albus’ lips. “No more guilt. You did what was necessary."

Albus swallowed hard. "There's more to come.” Albus motioned for Khalil to take over.

Khalil began. "In my country, crimes are punished harshly. A thief has a hand cut off. A malicious gossip loses a tongue. A murderer as Piers Rampal was forfeits his life. But an ifrit's existence is not easy to end." Khalil pushed the tray towards the center of the room. "As such, Piers Rampal continues to serve his sentence with Abraxos for company."

Her eyes shifted from Albus to the the trunk to Khalil and back to the trunk. "What are you saying?"

Khalil unlocked and opened the trunk. Inside lay the desiccated head of Piers Rampal. Its skin was yellow and scaly. Bile dribbled from dry, peeling lips. A gaping hole marked the place where a nose would have been. Shriveled eye lids fluttered open to reveal red glittering orbs.

It spoke in a snakelike lisp, "Greetings, Miss McGonagall.".

Minerva was too stunned to be repulsed. "Piers?"

"The whelp? Nay. You speak with Abraxos."

"May I speak with Piers?"

"That would be fruitless. He is without merit. May we discuss this place?" The head swiveled to the left then to the right. "Fascinating. I rarely leave the Guild you see. I have many questions.“

Khalil addressed Abraxos. "Abraxos, need I command you?"

Abraxos said petulantly. "Very well." The scarlet eyes dimmed.

The voice when it came was familiar. "Minerva?"

"Yes, it's me, Piers."

"You're lovely. I love you this -"

"Stop! I remember everything you did to me, to Albus. I know about Abdul and Hema."

The head slanted up. "My murderer sits beside you. What gall he has! Were it not for HIM ... " The head shook violently causing flakes of skin to fall off. "He didn't deserve you. He never did. I did if for us!"

"I feel quite ill. Goodbye, Piers. I wish you and Abraxos many, many years together."

Khalil closed the lid. They could hear the muted voice of Piers still raving.

"Are you all right?" Albus asked.

Minerva snuggled closer. "I am now."

Khalil locked the trunk and put a silencing charm on it. "In my mind, Piers died in the tomb. That is the official story. We will return to the Guild and nothing more will be said about this."

"How long will it exist?" Minerva asked.

"Several hundred years at least, perhaps more. Abraxos' powers are fading with time but it is taking a long time. He was a very powerful magician."

"That is a long time to be locked in a box."

Khalil laughed. "The Guild consults Abraxos on many projects, Minerva. He is rarely idle or bored.”

"And Piers?"

"He is not very pleasant or knowledgeable and so there is no call for his services. Abraxos has so much to teach. When he is motivated, he has been known to be quite helpful."

"How do you know what he tells you is accurate?"

"My second wish assures that Abraxos always tells me the truth. We ascertain accuracy by verifying with other sources."

"Other sources? Like other heads?"

"That I cannot say." Khalil gazed at the portraits lining the walls. “Portraits would be a bit less messy."

Albus looked curiously at Khalil. "Speaking of wishes, what was your third wish?"

Khalil's smile stretched wide. "Minerva gave me the idea. My third wish is a gift to you, Albus."

"If I remember correctly you gave me a beautiful tapestry before I left Egypt.”

"Then, yes. When I made my third and last wish, I was uncertain if it would ever come true. To tell you would have been to give you false hope.” Khalil placed a hand on Albus' shoulder. "I wished that Minerva would gain what she had lost in your lifetime."

Both Albus and Minerva were rendered speechless.

"In hindsight, I should have specified an earlier, shorter time period."

They all shared a good laugh and headed off to the hall.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it or hate it, let me know in a review.
> 
> This is the first book in a Never Forgotten series. The next story set in the same universe is The Resurrected Ghost. A Hogwarts ghost finds himself mortal again triggering a quest. Albus must delve through the founders artifacts to find pieces of the puzzle. Minerva and Irma must leave on a quest to find the Way and escape the clutches of the Destroyers of Destiny.


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